


Kill me Quick

by JessicaEBoswell



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Assassin! AU, M/M, Since this is a fic about assassins, Swearing, and violence throughout., there will be mentions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-01-16 22:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12351705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaEBoswell/pseuds/JessicaEBoswell
Summary: Victor Nikiforov is Russia’s best assassin, keen, motivated, a true aim… but a man who has been neglecting life and love for far too long, and after refusing to complete the task of assassinating Japan’s top diplomat, Yuri Katsuki, he is thrown into a game of cat and mouse, trying to locate the man who wanted Yuri dead and keep his newfound love safe.





	1. Misfire

**Chapter 1: Misfire**

**-**

The key on the chain span in a whirring rhythm as it spiralled around Victor’s finger, the silver metal catching the light of the street lamps and creating glints of white on the worn surface. He listened to the gentle rattle in favour of the chanting drunks and singing party-goers that flocked around every available bar and night club, keeping to the less populated areas as he strolled leisurely through his hometown. Nobody took any notice to him, his lithe form going completely ignored and the spinning key rotating unseen. He was a ghost in the night, a passing shadow drenched in blood and never to be seen again, the silent call of death armed with nothing but charm and a sniper rifle.

He took a sharp turn into a darkened alleyway and made his way towards the rusting metal door at the other end, knocking three times on the surface and holding up his key to the pair of bitter eyes that stared at him through the opened grate.

“Come on, Jaspar,” Victor joked, “you know who I am.”

Jasper grunted irritably in response and wrenched the door open, permitting the silver-haired man entry and swiftly securing the facility once he was inside. “Got something for Yakov?” the guard inquired, collapsing back into his wooden chair and lifting his heavy-lidded gaze to the agency’s most accomplished assassin.

“Other than another death certificate to add to his collection, no,” Victor replied, stashing the key in the top pocket of his blazer. “Why do you ask?”

“He wanted to see you about an hour ago, something about a new contract that’s just come in,” Jasper said with a tired yawn.

Victor rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, shaking his head as an agitated sigh shot through his lips. “He always does this,” he complained. “Surely he can send one of the others.”

“Not this time.”

The young assassin shot a confused glance at the rounded man, narrowing his eyebrows and waiting expectantly for an explanation to his puzzling response.

“He said something about needing a specialist for this one.” Jasper shrugged, picking up a magazine from the side table and flicking through the first few pages. “Seems you fit the bill, Nikiforov.”

“We’ll see,” Victor said sceptically, turning on his heels and descending the steps into the main hub of the hideout. Its entrance was rather deceptive, but the exposed pipes and grey concrete walls of the cold hallway outside quickly gave way to red plush walls and comfortable futons beyond the dividing arch and beaded curtain. The smell of smoke hit him almost instantly, a few of the agency’s operatives gathered by the poker table with cigarettes in their mouths and empty glasses scattered across the surface. “Surely you guys know better than to play against Igor,” he chuckled, spotting the tall, fair-haired assassin smirking behind his deck of cards. “He always wins.”

“He always cheats,” Georgi insisted, scrutinising his hand and biting his lip in concentration.

“You always _assume_ I cheat,” Igor corrected, laughing under his breath and relaxing back in his seat. “Truth is you’re just shit at poker.”

“Oh, shut up.” Georgi gave the taller man a cursory glance before he returned his focus to his cards, his eyes skimming their value before he threw them down in defeat. “I give in.”

Victor chuckled at their antics and made his way through the luminous complex, removing his gloves and primping himself before he arrived at Yakov’s office. After a few short knocks he was permitted to enter, and he slipped fluidly around the door and sat himself down in the proffered seat.

“I assume your last contract was successful,” Yakov said, handing Victor a glass of brandy and nursing his own half-empty glass.

“It was,” Victor reported, taking a sip of the strong alcohol and wincing at the tingling burn as it slid down his throat; Yakov never did like weak alcohol. “Everything went smoothly, no complications, no obstacles, just a shot and a nice, healthy payment.”

Yakov nodded in approval and retrieved a file from the top drawer of his desk, throwing it down in front of his most accomplished agent and swallowing the last drop of brandy in his glass. “A new request came in this morning. I thought you might like to take this one.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be sent out into the field as soon as I got back,” Victor admitted, examining the information on his new target out of curiosity rather than compliance.

“Neither was I, but this requires skill and efficiency, both of which you have in abundance. The place will be crowded, there’s no way of luring the target out of sight, and I need a well-placed kill.”

The younger man chuckled and shrugged, but he knew that when it came to quick kills and getting the job done, he was the most proficient assassin Yakov had. “This shouldn’t take me long,” he mused, analysing his victim and biting his lip as he mapped out his plans to eliminate him. He had hoped to rest after his recent contract, but he didn’t mind the extra money in his pocket and praise from his superiors.

“Hopefully it won’t,” Yakov agreed, pouring himself another drink, “but you’ll have a large crowd of diplomats and possible security to deal with, so I want you to be discreet and quick.”

Victor gave his boss a singular nod and closed the file, sliding it back across the desk and getting to his feet. “The diplomat’s ball is tonight, so whoever this Yuri Katsuki is, he’ll be gone before dawn.”

 

* * *

 

“I messed up,” Yuri groaned, his hands covering his embarrassingly red face and his dignity in tatters. “I don’t know why I said it… I just…” He heaved a sigh and let his hands drop to his sides, his anxiety beginning to boil and his mind replaying the humiliating events of the past few hours. “It doesn’t matter now, I said it and I can’t take it back. Why did I ever want to become a diplomat?”

“Because you’re level-headed when it matters, clear and concise about what you want, and willing to see the perspective of both sides and mediate accordingly,” Phichit answered matter-of-factly, watching as Yuri grabbed another glass of champagne and gulped it down in two thick swallows. “And not to mention you always have your country’s best interests at heart.”

“I should have just kept my mouth shut,” Yuri continued, shaking his head at his mistake and breathing deeply to keep the rising belch from making an appearance. He reached back to the banquet table and took hold of another glass of champagne, knowing that he shouldn’t be drinking such a copious amount of alcohol, but after the first few glasses he stopped caring, each drink fizzling down his throat and dimming any sense of rationality. “But no, I stood up and called Kimoto Genichi out and ended up being planted straight back on my-” He was cut off by a sharp cough, the champagne he’d tipped down his throat burning as it made its way to his stomach.

Phichit gave him a look of concern and took his hands in his to stop him from reaching for yet another glass of alcohol. “Yuri, you’re good at what you do, never doubt that. You were right to call Kimoto out, to follow your instincts. Just because he shot you down for what you said, it doesn’t make you a bad diplomat; it makes you human. We’ve all gotten things wrong at some point in our careers, but what matters is how we recover from it.” He felt Yuri’s shaking hands slip from his gentle grasp and grab hold of another flute of champagne, the liquid barely touching his lips as he gulped it down. “And by recovering, I don’t mean getting blind drunk.”

“Huh?” Yuri mumbled, wiping a stray droplet from his lips and blearily trying to concentrate on Phichit’s worried expression. “I’m fine, I’m… working my way through it.” He could see, in his compromised state, that Phichit was in no hurry to believe that he was all right, but the more he drank, the more he forgot about the confident words he’d thrown across the circular room in the diplomatic meeting that afternoon, and the sharp response from one of the world’s top diplomats as he debunked everything that Yuri had said and insulted his role as one of Japan’s top representatives. He didn’t know why he’d done it, why he’d called him out the moment he’d mentioned business in Canada; at the time it had been a feeling, a twist in his stomach that didn’t settle with him, and he had suspicions about Kimoto’s motives, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He was a laughingstock, a walking joke for the other diplomats to laugh at, and nobody would ever take him seriously again. “I’m supposed to be one of Japan’s top diplomats,” he breathed. “How am I supposed to walk into that room tomorrow and speak on behalf of my country when I slip up so easily?”

Phichit put his arm around his dearest friend and held him close, wishing that he could help him, but he couldn’t go back in time and stop him from making his mistake. All he could do was support him through the worst of the doubt and get him back on his feet again. “By believing in yourself,” the Thai diplomat replied as he drew back from the embrace. “You are there on behalf of the people of Japan, their voice in these debates, and all you have to do to secure a good deal for them is believe in yourself. No ifs or buts, you hold your head high and you do as you always have done: stand up and speak for Japan.”

Yuri wasn’t too sure about the little belief he had in himself, but if Phichit was willing to support him through his troubled time, he’d at least try for his sake. “I think I just need to-” He stopped short when he spotted Kimoto entering the room, his dark eyes skimming the formal decorations in indifference and his nose placed firmly in the air.

Phichit noticed the man too and quickly reached for Yuri’s wrist, knowing that in his intoxicated state he was likely to do and say things that he would later come to regret. “Perhaps we should go into the other room,” he suggested. “It’s much quieter in there, and we can sit you down and get you a glass of water.” For a moment he thought that Yuri was going to refuse, wrench his wrist from his pleading grasp and march over to Kimoto with the intent of giving him a piece of his addled mind, but luckily he simply nodded in his drink-infused daze and agreed to sit down for a while. “We need to get you some nice water, and then-” He felt Yuri’s presence vanish, and when he turned back around in panic, thinking that he’d wandered off, he found his fellow envoy dancing around a long metal pole, his tie around his head and his umpteenth glass of champagne empty and rolling across the wooden floor. Phichit raised his hand to his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his head starting to ache from the day’s long talks and his eyes feeling heavy with sleep, but even if it was the last thing he did, he’d get Yuri Katsuki safely to his hotel room and ensure he was sober enough for the deliberations in the morning.

 

* * *

 

Victor found the hotel easy enough to infiltrate, the lobby completely empty and the night driving people to their beds. The reception desk had been left to the night staff, and since there was nobody bothered enough to sit behind it and monitor the area, Victor was free to locate the ballroom and inspect the situation without being disturbed. He peeked through the glass double doors and glanced around at the extravagant room, locating a number of balconies in the vicinity and hoping that his target was still within.

With one last, narrow-eyed look, he turned and made his way through the vacant corridors, searching for the stairway up to the balconies. It wasn’t too difficult for him to find, the signposts leading him most of the way and his intuition guiding him the rest.

Once he’d jogged up the bedraggled steps, minding the holes in the carpeted stairs as he went, he navigated his way around the upper corridor and found the balcony he was searching for. He thought he’d have to waste time attempting to spot his target in the array of tuxedoed men and jewel-covered women, but luck was on his side that night and within seconds he’d spotted the man he was charged to kill, grasping one of the supporting metal poles of the opposite balcony and spinning around it in glee. A target moving so rapidly wasn’t exactly ideal, but Victor had dealt with worse, and once he’d settled his sniper rifle on the statue overlooking the opulent venue, he trained his eye on the scope and shifted to get a better shot. Biting his lip, he traced his finger along the trigger and let out a short breath, just one push away from releasing the almost silent bullet and completing his contract… but he couldn’t do it.

The drunken man was now dancing suggestively, his shirt open and hanging from his shoulders, and his bright brown eyes sparkling with desire. _Just shoot him,_ he thought, wondering why he was hesitating when all he had to do was pull the trigger. _It_ _’s simple: shoot and leave._ But it wasn’t as simple as it should have been; Victor had countless emotions running through him all at once, too quick for him to comprehend anything but the pounding of his heart.

He tried to fight the entranced state he’d been startled into and complete his task, but he found himself stricken, his muscles refusing to move and his mind fighting the very notion of shooting his intended target. “I can’t do it,” he muttered to himself, his wide eyes lifting from the scope of the rifle to the dancing diplomat. There was something about him, something so sweet and so charming that Victor couldn’t bring himself to end his life. He saw joy in Yuri’s eyes and gentleness in his smile, and the last thing he wanted to do was tear that beauty from the world.

He took in a few deep breaths and removed the rifle from the base of the statue, raising it so that it was pointing directly at the chandelier and letting loose a singular bullet. It met its mark, shattering the light and plunging the room into a state of frenzied chaos, and refusing to waste a single second, Victor jogged back down the stairs in haste and burst into the lower level of the ballroom.

Yuri had no idea what was happening, not that he cared enough to register it. So long as he had the pole to dance around and a mind too fazed to recognise the confusion around him, he was content. He giggled under her breath as he span, humming a tune to himself and breathing out in his blissful state. The last thing he expected was to feel a vice-like grip wrap around his wrist and wrench him from the pole so quickly that he almost lost his balance. “Huh… Phichit, no, I want to dance…just one more, please…”

“Shut up,” a voice hissed from the darkness, a voice that most definitely wasn’t Phichit’s, the hand on his wrist pulling him insistently towards them. “Just do as I tell you and you won’t die.”

Victor hoped that it was the truth, that he would be able to save the man from his unforgiving fate, but all he had to go on was a brief contract and his instincts, and in this particular case, he wasn’t sure whether he could rely on either of them.


	2. The Dawn of a New Day

**Chapter 2: The Dawn of a New Day**

 -

The gunshot reverberated around Yuri and in an instant he was alert, the spinning and whirling of his vision scanning the room in search of the sudden noise. The flickering lights distorted his view as the alcohol and the confusion bubbled in his already compromised mind. At first he thought he’d imagined it, that he was so drunk he was hallucinating both sight and sound, but a firm pressure on his wrist told him otherwise.

He spun around to identify what was attached to his wrist, glancing down wide-eyed and panicked, and staring at the slim hand wrapped around his arm before his gaze shot up to the man attached to it. In the intermittent bursts of light it was difficult to see him properly, but he managed to catch a glimpse of silver hair and icy blue eyes before he was tugged again, this time jolting him forwards and towards the fire exit.

“What the hell are you doing?” he slurred, hitting at the vice-like grip clutching onto his wrist. “Let go of me. What’s going on?” It was no use in fighting the man; his assailant was far too strong and Yuri was in no fit state to fight back. “Let. Me. Go!” he demanded again, a harsh hit to the back of the man’s hand following each hissed word. Without so much as a grunt in response, he was thrown out into the cold air, the chill nipping harshly at his face and the bright street lamps outside the hotel making his head pound.

“I’m sorry,” the man said sincerely, bowing his head to the drunken diplomat and eagerly surveying the immediate area. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Yuri rubbed at his wrist and shook his head, his eyes trailing up the man as he blearily took in the sight of him; he was handsome, there was no denying that, and his eyes weren’t as icy cold now that he could see them properly. His features were sharp and angled, but his expression was soft, full of concern and alert to their surroundings. “I’m not hurt,” he replied, swallowing down the nausea bubbling in his throat. “I’m just… I’m confused. I don’t understand. Who are you?”

“I’m no-one,” Victor told him gently, “at least not at the minute. All you need to know is that I’m going to get you somewhere safe, okay?” He watched the diplomat carefully; he was swaying on the spot and struggling to stay upright, and his gaze searched his features as though he was an astronomer looking up at the stars. _How the hell am I supposed to get him away from here when he_ _’s in no fit state to be going anywhere?_ he pondered, his eyes scanning the small alleyway between the hotel and the next building in the long row of businesses and apartments.

“You know, you have grey hair,” Yuri mumbled, tilting his head and almost tumbling to the ground. “Are you a vampire that’s only aging on top?”

Victor ignored the comment in favour of keeping Yuri stable, hoping that somewhere in his hazy mind he realised that urgency was of the utmost importance. “I need you to do something for me,” he said sternly.

“And what would that be?” Yuri asked, raising his eyebrows and trying his best to listen to the strange man, but the cars whooshing down the long road and the sound of confusion from within the hotel were vying for his attention, and he could only concentrate for a few seconds before his mind began to wander.

“Trust me.”

Yuri’s eyes flew up to the man, those two tiny words capturing his interest within seconds. Even in his inebriated state, he knew that to trust someone some level of expertise or friendship was required for it to work, and yet the man stood before him, this complete stranger, wanted his trust, his faith, just like that. “Why?” he breathed incredulously. “Why should I trust you? You’ve just dragged me out of room where someone was almost shot, and now you expect me to put my-” A hiccup rose in his throat but he swallowed it down, determined to get his words out before he vomited. “To put my faith in you. I don’t even know who you are.”

Victor’s anxious gaze shot to the ground, the adrenaline beginning to boil in his veins and the crucial need to get the diplomat away from the area gnawing at his mind. “Fine, you don’t have to trust me completely, but at least trust me enough to get you away from harm.” He didn’t know whether Yuri believed him, whether he’d even agree to let him keep him safe, but with a singular, reluctant nod, he was granted the smaller man’s trust for the time being. “Thank you. Now, do you think you can walk unaided?” A stumble and a quick catch made it clear to Victor that Yuri was in no condition to walk without help, and so he swiftly took one of the man’s arms and wrapped it around his shoulders. “Lean on me if you feel unsteady.” He placed his other hand on his waist and took as much of his weight as he could, leaving Yuri with the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other. “I really am sorry that I scared you,” Victor said in earnest. “That wasn’t my intention at all.”

“Something screwed up must be going on if you had to save me,” Yuri mused as he stumbled forwards on shaky legs. “But what from?”

 _Me,_ Victor thought mournfully. He shook his head to rid himself of the thought and focused on his own task; all his life he’d been told what to do, who to kill and where and when, but just this once he was going to do what settled better with his conscience instead of his bank account.

Yuri focused on the man keeping him upright, the tie around his head flapping wildly in the growing wind. He wasn’t quite sure why the man was rescuing him from the unknown danger he guessed he was in, but it must have been for a good reason; if being a diplomat had taught him anything, it was that nobody ever did anything without good reason. “You seem a little scary,” he admitted, a bright smile sneaking across his lips, “but underneath it all, I think you’re rather nice.”

“I’ve never been called nice before,” Victor chuckled, adjusting his grip on the man and pondering on the compliment. _But will he still think you_ _’re nice when he wakes up and finds out what you did,_ his mind tormented, _what you were ordered to do?_ Victor already knew the answer, but he refused to give in to his mind’s attempt to shake him, and focused on getting the inebriated diplomat to safety as quickly as he could.

* * *

 

The first thing Yuri felt when he woke abruptly from his bleary slumber was pain; his head felt like it was under assault from within, the insistent pounding followed by multiple harsh jolts of agony. He’d been drinking alcohol, that much he could tell from his dry mouth and the vile taste lingering on his tongue, but he couldn’t remember much else.

As he opened his eyes with an uncomfortable breath and a murmured grumble, he realised that he was lying on a sofa, the pillows keeping his head propped up and the blanket keeping him warm. To the side of him was a polished wooden table, a glass of water and two tablets sitting on the edge of an accompanying note reading: _you_ _’ll probably want these._ Yuri shook his head as he glanced back at the two white pills and turned away from them, the early morning sunlight streaming in through the blinds and making him recoil from the bright rays of torturous pain.

Wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and padding over to the window, he closed the blinds and took in his surroundings as the flickering flashes of colour dispersed and allowed him to see where he was. His heavy-lidded gaze skimmed the sofa he’d been sleeping on, the tidy kitchen behind it, the shelves full of books, and the coffee table beside him. He reached forwards tentatively, his balance still compromised by the raging hangover running riot in his body, and grabbed hold of the remote. He pressed at a few of the buttons and the television screen lit up, his eyes narrowing as his vision adjusted to the sudden influx of light. He couldn’t understand what the people were saying, and so he flicked through the available channels, slumping back down onto the sofa and hoping to find something he could comprehend. In the end he settled with watching the news, the pictures enough for him to understand a little of what the reporter was saying. _I should have learnt more Russian before I got here,_ he thought to himself, pulling the blanket tightly around his shoulders and trying to keep his eyes open long enough to get through the latest news bulletin. He let out a long yawn, tensing his muscles and relaxing them once he’d forced his eyes open again. The report had changed in the few seconds he’d withdrawn his focus, and instead of pictures of snow and cold weather behind the newsman, there was now an image of himself, the reporter speaking urgently and sincerely.

“What the…” Yuri muttered, leaning forwards to get a better look at the television, almost expecting the image to change. “That can’t be…”

The door of the apartment opened gently and Yuri was instantly on his feet, turning around a little too quickly and clutching onto his head as it began to pound again. From the corridor emerged a large, fluffy dog, and a tall man with silver hair, the amused smile on his lips turning to one of surprise when his eyes finally reached his guest.

“I didn’t think you’d be awake,” Victor said softly, not wishing to scare the diplomat and shifting his gaze to the side table. “Did you not want those?” He gestured to the tablets and the water, and narrowed his eyebrows.

“I don’t know what they are,” Yuri replied, his voice crackled and small as the words were forced through his dry lips.

In response, Victor opened the first cupboard in the pristine kitchen and tentatively made his way over to him, holding out the box of tablets so that he could see them for himself. “See,” he chuckled, “they’re painkillers.” He could tell that Yuri wasn’t convinced, but he couldn’t exactly blame him for being wary; he’d woken up in a strange place with an odd Russian man offering him tablets, and he must have been confused after his night of heavy drinking.

“I don’t know what that says. It’s all in Russian.”

“Sorry,” Victor mumbled, realising his mistake and swiftly placing the tablets back in the cupboard. “But that still is water if you wanted that.” He nodded to the glass still sitting on the edge of the table and sat himself down in the opposite seat, leaning forwards and clasping his hands together.

Yuri didn’t know whether to trust the man, his kindness making him cautious, but he couldn’t deny that he was thirsty; whatever he’d drunk last night, it made him feel as though all of the liquid in his body had been sapped dry. He apprehensively took the glass and raised it to his lips, taking a quick sip from within. Once he realised that it really was just water, he gulped down as many mouthfuls as he could before he had to stop to take a breath.

“Would you like anything to eat?” Victor asked.

Yuri politely shook his head and wiped his mouth free of droplets with the back of his hand. “No, thank you,” he breathed, taking in a deep lungful of air. “I don’t think I’d be able to stomach it.”

“You did seem quite drunk,” Victor told him. “I can’t imagine your stomach has recovered yet.”

“I don’t remember.”

The silver-haired man nodded in understanding, wondering whether he remembered the compliments and the sweet smiles he’d offered him before he’d passed out on the sofa. “Well, you can make yourself at home,” he said kindly, “but we won’t be staying here for long.”

“What?” Yuri narrowed his eyes and finally gave his host his full attention. “I don’t understand. What happened?”

Victor wished that he knew what to do, what to say to assure Yuri that he wasn’t going to be harmed, but the situation didn’t allow him such luxuries; sat opposite him was a man in more danger than he could ever comprehend, and he knew that if he was going to keep him safe, he’d have to be honest with him from the start. “My name is Victor Nikiforov, I’m an assassin, and last night I was sent to kill you.”

Yuri instantly went wide-eyed and recoiled from the man, his heart thudding uncontrollably in his chest and tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. For a moment he thought that he was hallucinating, that his hungover state had fabricated a handsome stranger with frightening intents, but Victor was real, as real as the agony pulsating through his skull and the tears slipping down his cheek.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Victor promised sincerely, wanting nothing more than to reach over and comfort the shaken man. “I shot the lights instead and got you out of there.”

“Why?” Yuri squeaked breathlessly.

“I just couldn’t do it.”

It wasn’t exactly the answer that Yuri had been looking for, but his mind was too addled to question him further on the events of the previous night. “Okay,” he said, wiping his cheeks and fighting to remain composed, “assuming that I believe you for a minute, who wants me dead? Who hired you?”

“I don’t know,” Victor admitted. “We’re never told.” He looked up at Yuri and saw such purity in his eyes amongst the sparkle of fear, and he couldn’t help but be captivated by the sweet demeanour the man held despite the fact he was visibly breaking down inside. “You can leave if you want to. You can sober up and report me to any authorities you want. You can have me arrested, you can have me locked up, whatever you want. I’m not keeping you here.” He sat back and let out a short breath. “It would be a bit of a shock though since the world now thinks you’re dead.”

Yuri’s gaze flew up and his world came to a screeching standstill. “What?” he whispered, the crackle popping in his throat.

“I told the assassin agency I work for that I killed you, and it was broadcast on the news. I had no other option.”

“How?” Yuri demanded, the tears lining his eyes taking control of him and spilling down his cheeks before he could wipe them away.

“I have my ways,” Victor said vaguely. “It’s not important.”

“So, if I go out there and everyone finds out I’m still alive, I’ll be hunted.”

“It’s likely.”

“But if I stay with you… then what?”

Victor shifted so that he could lean against the armrest, wishing that he could be of better consolation to Yuri, but as the man who was sent to kill him, to steal his life away so quickly and so cruelly, it would only end up doing more damage than good. “I’ll keep you safe,” he replied in honesty, “as safe as I can keep you.”

“So that’s all I have to look forward to,” Yuri murmured, bringing his knees up to his chest and trying to remain calm. “Either I go out there and get shot, or I stay hidden away for the rest of my life. No more family. No more friends.” He fought to keep himself from gritting his teeth, but as the shock began to fade, the anger boiling within him took over. Who would do this to him? Who saw him as that much of a threat that they wanted him dead?

Victor could see how the news was impacting on him, and wanting to give the man some space to think, he rose from his seat and bowed his head. “You don’t have to decide now,” he said gently. “You should probably sober up before you make any sort of decisions.”


	3. Pieces of the Puzzle

**Chapter 3: Pieces of the Puzzle**

**-**

Yuri let out a tired sigh as he scrolled through the recent news reports coming out of Japan; they were all very touching tributes to him, remembering his diplomatic successes and sweet messages from those he loved, but he couldn’t help feeling guilty. They all thought he was dead, that he’d been assassinated at a seemingly civilised party, but in reality, he was sat in a plush apartment being waited on hand and foot by the man who was sent to murder him.

He sat back in the seat and closed down the news feed, glancing over his phone at Victor and making sure he wasn’t looking his way before he went into his inbox.

 

From: Phichit (22:24)

Please tell me this is some sort of joke. Phone me when you get this. Please, Yuri, I’m worried.

 

From: Phichit (23:58)

Yuri, I’ve been calling you for the past hour. Please answer your phone. Everyone is really confused. I just want to know that you’re okay.

 

From: Phichit (1:49)

The news is reporting that you’re dead. You’re not, I know you’re not, so please contact me as soon as you can.

 

From: Phichit (2:37)

I can’t believe you’re gone, Yuri. I want to see you again, to tell you that you’re my best friend and to hear you laugh again… hell, I’d even be fine if you were completely drunk and I had to look after you. At least you’d be here with me.

 

From: Phichit (6:12)

I miss you.

 

It hurt being unable to reply to Phichit; he wanted to tell him that he was all right and unharmed, and that he missed him too, but he couldn’t, and so all he could do was read the messages over and over again and hope that the situation would be resolved soon. Tears slipped down his cheeks and he tried to wipe them away, but he’d get rid of one for three more to fall, and his efforts to remain measured quickly failed. He dropped his phone onto the dining table and wrapped his shaking arms around himself, determined to keep it together. No matter how hard he tried, he was splitting at the seams, breaking from within, and he was fighting a battle he would never be able to win.

At the sound of gentle footsteps approaching, he sat up in his seat and wiped his cheeks with his hands, looking up at Victor as he took a seat opposite him. “Were you able to get any information from your boss?” he asked quietly, his voice crackling through the rising lump in his throat.

“All he said about the man who hired me was that he was rich and desperate to be rid of you,” Victor replied with a heavy sigh, having hoped that Yakov would give him more to work with than the blatantly obvious facts.

“Clearly,” Yuri said, crossing his arms over his chest and sinking back into his seat. He was exhausted, numb, and frightened for his life, and all he needed was one reassurance, one name that would tell him all he wanted to know. The longer it remained a secret, the longer his mind had to torment him over who could possibly hate him that much that they would pay to have him killed.

“It was difficult to speak to my boss about it. Usually I just do an assignment and move on.” Victor noticed the bewildered look in Yuri’s weary eyes and instantly realised how cold and unfeeling he was sounding. “It’s easier than contemplating taking a life until it drives me mad.” He knew that he was only digging himself into a hole by continuing to speak, and in defeat he slumped back into his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. _Nice one, Nikiforov,_ he scolded. _Do you really want him to hate you that much?_

Yuri could see that he was struggling to explain what it was like for him to live as an assassin, and out of mild sympathy he decided to change the subject; he wouldn’t judge Victor, not until he was in possession of all the fact. If he’d learnt anything as a diplomat, it was that a lot of who people truly were lay deep within, and the surface was only a desired image, not necessarily the truth. “So it’s someone rich and someone who wants me dead.”

“My boss also said something about a diplomat.”

“A diplomat?”

Victor nodded, trying to avert his eyes from Yuri’s frightened gaze. “He doesn’t know whether the diplomat was speaking on behalf of an employer or whether it was actually him who wanted you dead, but during their conversation Yakov was able to identify a few key words, and he believes the man he spoke to may indeed be a diplomat.” He finally lifted his gaze to the terrified man sat across the table. He wanted to be able to console him, to assure him that he would make everything right again, but he knew that reassurances from an assassin was the last thing he needed to hear. “Have you aggravated anybody you work with at all?”

Yuri shook his head. “Not that I know of,” he admitted.

“Not to worry. I know someone in Switzerland who has agreed to let us stay with him for a while,” Victor said comfortingly. “I know it may not be ideal, but it’s the safest place I know of.” Yuri gave him a small nod in agreement, and Victor reached out across the table to brush his fingertips against his. Surprisingly, he didn’t pull away. “You’ll be okay.”

“Can you promise me that?” Yuri asked, looking him in the eyes and observing his expression closely.

Victor opened his mouth to reply, to assure him that he would be okay, that he would be safe and cared for, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lie to him. Swallowing down his guilt, he got to his feet and took in a deep breath. “I’ll go and get dinner started,” he mumbled, leaving Yuri’s question unanswered and busying his remorse-filled mind with preparing something to eat.

 

* * *

 

Victor hated seeing the dismayed look strewn across Yuri’s face, and despite his attempts to cheer him up and assure him that he’d be protected in his care, he couldn’t blame him for retreating within himself to keep from getting hurt even more; he’d never felt like this before, this need to protect someone with his life, but Yuri wasn’t just anybody, and Victor was determined to find out what part he would play in his life. Would he be a companion to him, a friend who he could entrust with everything, or would he be more? Would he spend the remainder of his days with him, allow himself to experience the parts of his life that he’d neglected for so long and give in to the love he was so desperately trying to fight for Yuri’s sake? _Who would love an assassin?_ he thought to himself. _Who could love someone who has knowingly taken numerous lives without a second thought?_ In that moment he felt like a monster, a creature forced to live in the dark through fear of how the light would judge him, but he couldn’t keep refraining from the sun. At some point, he’d have to dip a toe into the blinding light of day and rectify what he’d done.

Refusing to think any more about the life he’d led and the mistakes he’d made, he began flicking through the files that Yakov had sent him regarding the man who’d hired him. He skimmed through the information, his impatience pushing him to find out as much as he could, but he forced himself to slow down, not wanting to miss anything crucial that might lead him to the truth.

“Found anything?”

At the sound of the tender voice, Victor instantly raised his gaze from the scattering of files and focused solely on his guest, the dark-haired man lowering himself onto the ground and sitting beside him on the living room floor. Makkachin pattered to his side in an instant, the loving dog receiving the soft pets he wanted from Yuri without having to whimper or paw at his hand. “If I’ve pieced it all together correctly, it was a male diplomat who hired me,” Victor answered, returning his attention to the files, “and apparently he spoke a little of a contract that had fallen through because of you. Do you remember anything like that, who it was that was impacted by the failed contract?”

Yuri narrowed his eyebrows and tried to recall an event in which he’d seen a contract made void, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember anything like that ever happening. “I haven’t intercepted a deal, at least not that I know of,” he said in thought. “But at least we know it’s definitely a diplomat who wants me-” He tried to force the word through his lips, determined to get it out, but in the end, he gave a short huff in defeat and glanced down at Makkachin fast asleep on his leg. “You know what I mean.” He peeked over his glasses long enough to see Victor nod in understanding before returning his focus to the sleeping dog. He wished he could rest so easily, that he could give his tormented mind some peace if only for an hour, but he couldn’t stop thinking, about his situation, his family, his friends, Phichit. His head snapped up as a thought hit him. “Maybe I should contact Phichit,” he voiced. “He’s a diplomat from Thailand. He trained with me in Detroit and he’s a good friend of mine. He may be able to help us.”

“No,” Victor said without hesitation, refusing to even contemplate something so dangerous. “It would be foolish to tell anyone you’re still alive.”

“But he could help us, and I wouldn’t tell anybody else that I was still-”

“No!” Victor breathed out heavily and swallowed down the lump of fear rising in his throat, his outburst having shot from his chest before he could stop it. “It would be dangerous to tell anybody you’re alive,” he said a little softer. “Do you not realise how much danger you are in?” His voice cracked and he took a moment to compose himself, Makkachin rousing from his slumber and tilting his head at his owner. “Of course, you don’t,” he whispered, raking his hand through his hair. “Of course, you don’t know that you could be shot the moment you leave this apartment if the wrong person found out that you weren’t dead.” He finally made eye contact with the man sat opposite him and shifted in his position until he was knelt before him, disregarding the files completely and tentatively reaching out to take hold of his hands. “One day you will be able to tell your friends and family everything, you will be able to return to them and your work, safe and sound, but not today. You understand, don’t you?”

Yuri’s world was slowly crumbling around him, and in that moment, it felt like it all came crashing down at once, the dust and the smoke bringing tears to his eyes and the wreckage that was left behind bare of anything he’d once loved so dearly. He wrenched his hands from Victor’s grasp and pushed himself to his feet, glancing down at him with tear-filled eyes before rushing to the bathroom. He could hear Victor following behind him, but he slammed the door in his face and locked it before he could reach him.

“Yuri, don’t do this, please,” Victor begged. From within he could hear gentle sobs and weeping, and in defeat he pressed his palm and his forehead against the bathroom door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he breathed against the wood, hoping that Yuri was listening to him. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through, and I won’t insult you by pretending to. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry. Please come out of there so we can talk.”

Yuri could hear every breathed word, hear the crackle and the break in Victor’s voice as he pleaded with him to leave the confines of the small bathroom, but he felt safer in there than he did out in the rest of the apartment.

When he took in a heavy breath, all he could smell was strong rose-scented hand soap and the remnants of the citrus cleaner, the stifling atmosphere bringing out the worst of his anxieties and torturing him even further. But he wouldn’t leave that room, not until he’d thought of a way to resolve his situation. He had to be free from the cage he’d been cruelly thrown into, find the key and fly free again, but the more he thought about it, the more hopeless he felt, and in the end he resigned himself to the hard, wooden toilet seat and sobbed.

 

* * *

 

Time in the bathroom didn’t seem to pass as it did out in the apartment; in the apartment he could hear the clocks and chart each second that passed, but in that small cubicle he was completely alone.

He sniffled and wiped his cheeks, the tears having dried over the hours he’d spent in there and the remnants still clinging to his skin in uneven paths. Rising slowly from his seat, he splashed his face with some cold water and returned to his full height to look at his reflection in the mirror. His cheeks were red and his eyes were bloodshot, his eyelids hanging heavy and his hair in disarray. He thought about brushing it with his fingers to try and tame it, but he didn’t have the energy.

Wanting nothing more than to sleep, he unlocked the door and tentatively opened it, peering at the darkened apartment outside. Through the windows he could see the full moon and a smattering of stars, and when he glanced down, he noticed Victor sat on the ground, his back against the wall and his eyes gently closed. Makkachin was beside him, Victor’s hand on the dog’s head and the pair fast asleep.

Yuri quietly left the sanctity of the bathroom and caught the smell of food, his stomach rumbling and his searching leading him to the kitchen. Two plates of food were waiting for them both, but it was cold now, and after lifting his hand from the cold beef and wilting vegetables, he made his way back to the sleeping forms of Victor and Makkachin, collapsing down the wall to sit beside them. He knew that Victor hadn’t meant to say those things, that he was worried for his welfare and that for some reason he only wanted what was best for him, but the longer Yuri remained trapped, the more he felt like a mouse, thrown a bit of cheese every now and again out of pity and fearing a trap around every corner. It wasn’t a life anybody should have to lead, but it was the one he’d been given. 

_What sort of life do I have now?_ he wondered, raising his knees to his chest and gazing out of the opposite window at the gleaming night sky. _None. Until we get to the bottom of this, I have no life._ He could feel the tears welling in his eyes again, more droplets of hopelessness and fright threatening to spill free, but he didn’t try to fight them or wipe them away; he did feel hopeless and he was frightened, and fighting them would be as successful as attempting to catch a star. _It_ _’s as though I really have died,_ he thought in mourning of the life he’d once had. _It_ _’s as though I never really existed at all._


	4. Crucial Calls

**Chapter 4: Crucial Calls**

-

Yuri wrapped his jacket tightly around his shoulders, the below freezing temperatures nipping sharply at his skin and making him shiver. He hadn’t believed that such a painful cold existed until that morning, stood in front of the most extravagant chalet he’d ever seen; it appeared to be more like a wooden mansion rather than the rarely used holiday home Victor had claimed it to be, the roof almost reaching into the clouds and the windows so large that Yuri couldn’t imagine the amount of work that had to go into keeping them clean.

“It will be a lot warmer inside,” Victor promised, adjusting Yuri’s blue scarf so that it sat comfortably around his neck and kept the chill at bay. “Chris always makes sure that the chalet is well heated, especially in winter.”

“I thought you said it was a small lodge in the mountains,” Yuri commented, speaking through numb lips and chattering teeth, “not a modern mansion on the edge of a massive cliff.”

Victor chuckled and slipped his gloved hands into his pockets, the thick layer of fur beneath the leather tickling at his fingertips. “Chris doesn’t do things by half,” he replied in amusement. “Why have a lodge when you can have a modern mansion to relax in?” He noticed Yuri’s eyes shift for a fraction of a second, and Victor turned his head to face him, offering him a warm smile and a reassuring nod in response to the anxious expression residing on his features.

The door opened effortlessly with a smooth slide, and the owner of the luxurious chalet greeted his guests with a charming smile and an outstretched hand. “You must be Yuri,” Chris said, looking the man up and down as he stood to the side and allowed him to enter his home. “I can see why Victor has taken an interest in you.”

Yuri blushed and instantly turned his attention to the carpeted floor in bashful response, unsure of how to respond to such a forward greeting.

“Don’t worry,” the Swiss man assured him, shutting the door once Victor had entered and locking it securely. “You will be perfectly safe here. I just made coffee if you want a cup.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Yuri replied politely, the chill beginning to dissipate now that the freezing cold had been trapped outside and the warmth of the chalet had enveloped itself around him. “To be honest, I think I just need to rest.”

Chris nodded in understanding and guided him to the staircase, the slim strips of lighting on the sides of each wooden step creating a path up to the first floor of the chalet. “I’ve had your room made up for you if you want to settle in,” he said kindly. “It’s up the stairs, and the second room on the left. If you need anything, just shout, okay?”

“Thank you,” Yuri said in appreciation.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

Chris turned on his heels and made his way towards the arch that divided the kitchen and the entrance hall, and Yuri watched his form disappear, his footsteps fading and the hall falling silent. Wanting nothing more than to sleep for a few hours after their long flight, he began to climb the stairs, his legs aching and his muscles pushing themselves to their limit just to get him up the first few steps. A brush against his wrist stopped him in his tracks, and he turned with bleary eyes to see Victor reaching out to him.

“Are you all right?” he asked worriedly, retracting his hand once the foolish feeling had gripped him completely.

“I’m fine,” Yuri answered plainly, making his way back up the stairs again before Victor could even think about responding. He didn’t want sympathy, or to be treated as though he was an injured animal. All he wanted was some time alone.

The Russian pushed his hand through his strands of silver hair and removed his coat, hanging it on one of the many hooks by the door and padding into the kitchen. Chris was already settled by the central counters with a cup of coffee balanced between his slim fingers, his lithe form leaning over a magazine and his bright eyes scanning the contents within.

“He’ll be okay,” the host told him, turning the page and looking over the next juicy story with keen interest. “He just needs time.”

“I hope so,” Victor sighed, pulling up a chair and pushing himself up onto it, the tips of his shoes barely reaching the tiled floor. He poured himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee and placed in a singular teaspoon of cream, stirring it until it had melted and taking a tentative sip. He could feel Chris’s eyes on him, suspicious as ever, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before the questions started flowing. In his head, he began to count.

“So, what is the deal with you and Yuri?” the Swiss assassin enquired, abandoning the gossip column in favour of questioning his friend.

_Six seconds,_ Victor thought with a subtle grin, breathing out heavily and curling his cold fingers around the warm cup. “What deal?” he replied innocently.

Chris let out a short laugh and turned in his seat to face Victor properly, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “I’ve known you long enough to know you don’t save anybody,” he said matter-of-factly. “What made this one different?”

“I just…I…” Victor stumbled over his words a few more times in his attempt to find an explanation, wracking his brain and contemplating the past few weeks, but no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he searched through the fog covering his deepest thoughts, he couldn’t find a reason. “I just couldn’t do it,” he sighed, slumping back in his seat. “I couldn’t pull the trigger.”

“Why?”

Victor could feel tears in his eyes as he recalled the night he was supposed to kill Yuri, feeling the rush of emotion swell inside him as he stared down the scope, a mere second away from completing his task. It all coursed through his veins, swallowed any other thought whole, and it took all of his strength not to break down there and then. “When I saw him through the scope, I felt my heart sink at the thought of such beauty not being in the world, and I couldn’t do it. I physically couldn’t pull the trigger.” He took another sip of coffee and rested his elbows on the kitchen surface, glancing at the mosaic of a waterfall on the opposite wall. “He said such sweet things when I’d gotten him out of the banquet hall; he told me I was nice, that he thought I was handsome, and that he wants me to visit him in Hasetsu. I never thought I’d fall in love so fast.”

“So it is love,” Chris mused, crossing his legs and tapping idly against the side of his cup. “I thought so.”

“It’s more than that. Love plays a part in it, but speaking to Yuri, getting to know him a better, it’s given me a look at the life I could have had if it wasn’t for…for…”

“The shooting people for a living part?”

Victor nodded and drained the rest of the coffee, gulping it down as quickly as he could and placing the empty mug down with a sigh. “But I don’t have a choice.”

“You _didn_ _’t_ have a choice,” Chris told him firmly, “but now you do. Just make sure it’s worth it.”

 

* * *

 

How Chris could have called Yuri’s accommodation something as simple as a room baffled the misplaced diplomat; it was more like a personal apartment, a place where he could easily have lived without ever having to use the rest of the house. He had multiple rooms at his disposal, including a large bathroom, a kitchenette with a stocked fridge, and his own personal balcony where he could look out across the snowy cliffs and the tiny village at the base of the mountains.

He collapsed onto the four-poster bed and gazed around at the beauty of it all, his eyes skimming the wide-screen television mounted on the wall and the cosy fireplace beneath it. He had everything he needed within reach. _Not everything,_ he pondered, taking his phone out of his pocket and turning it over in his hand. His eyes shifted from the spotless luxury surrounding him and settled on the door, his heart pounding and his mind racing. He was convinced that Victor was going to walk through the door and demand to know what he was doing with his phone in his hand, but he could hear the Russian and his close friend laughing with each other on the floor below, a flight of stairs and many metres of silence away from him.

With a small breath, he pushed himself back to his feet and slid the glass door leading to the balcony open, squinting at the blast of air before his eyes became accustomed to the chill and ceased watering. He stepped out and stood by the waist-high railing, the pure undisturbed snow glistening and shimmering in the early morning light. Had it not have been for the threat of being shot lingering over him, he could have felt at peace there, but this wasn’t a dream, and he wasn’t safe enough to let his mind wander so carelessly yet.

Turning back to the wooden exterior of the chalet and leaning against the railing, he turned his attention back to his phone and scrolled through his contacts, finding Phichit’s name. His finger lingered over the green call button, his thoughts alight and the tears in his eyes returning. He knew that Victor wouldn’t advise him to do something so reckless, but this wasn’t Victor’s decision to make, and after quickly pressing the call button to take away the chance of backing out, he raised his phone to his ear and listened to the dial ring.

The ringing stopped and Yuri instantly became alert, his posture tensing and his drying eyes going wide. There were a few clicks and intermittent signal loss, but then he heard the one voice that calmed his hammering heart and gave him a moment of overwhelming relief.

_“Yuri? Is that you?”_

“Yes,” Yuri breathed, his voice crackling down the microphone and a stray tear slipping down his cheek. “It’s me.”

_“But… but you’re…”_

Yuri listened to the hitch in Phichit’s words and tried to block out the sniffles echoing through the speaker. “Phichit, I-”

_“You’re dead, Yuri,”_ the Thai diplomat squeaked. _“You’re dead, I saw it on the news, I…I saw it…”_

“It’s all a lie, a cover-up,” Yuri explained, trying to keep his emotions in check. He needed to be able to tell Phichit everything with a clear mind and as quickly as he could; he couldn’t falter now. “Someone wants me dead. I should have been shot at the diplomats ball, but…” He closed his eyes for a second and let out a long breath, wondering how he could possibly explain that an assassin, the assassin who was sent to kill him, ended up saving his life. “But to cut a long story short, I wasn’t. I was rescued, and I really need your help.”

_“Have you spoken to your family?”_ Phichit asked after a tense moment of silence.

“I can’t, I’m not in any place to at the moment, and it’s better for them to think I’m dead for now, but I need your help. The man who wants me dead is a diplomat, and I need to find out exactly who ordered it. You’re good with technology, incredible even, and you’ve always been able to access information quickly. Will you help me find out who it was?”

_“Yuri, you are my best friend. Do you honestly think that I would refuse to help you?”_

Yuri let out a sigh of relief and relaxed his tensing muscles, his pounding heart beginning to calm now that he had something familiar back in his life. “Thank you, thank you so much!” he breathed. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help right now.”

_“No need to thank me,”_ Phichit chuckled, sniffling away the last of the tears and audibly swallowing the lump in his throat. _“Sleuthing has always been a hobby, and what sort of friend would I be if I refused to help you.”_

“I have every need to thank you,” Yuri replied, making a mental note to treat Phichit to dinner as soon as the ordeal was over. “And Phichit?”

_“Yeah?”_

“I’m sorry for not calling you sooner.”

_“Don’t apologise,”_ Phichit told him gently. _“I may not be able to understand what you’re going through, but I understand that you’re in a difficult position right now. I’m just glad you’re not dead. I don’t know what I’d do without my best friend.”_

* * *

 

The airport was bustling with travellers and welcome parties alike, but Yurio didn’t care for the rabble of families and friends greeting their loved ones; he was on a mission of his own, a task that he was determined to see through, and so he avoided the smiling faces and exchanged hugs as much as he could.

Once he had his luggage, he made his way to the lobby and stepped out into the freezing cold air, the harsh chill seeping through his jacket and scratching along his skin, not that it bothered him much; he’d seen many winters in Russia that were much colder than this, where the ice was multiple feet thick and tears froze in a matter of seconds. The winds blowing through the streets of Switzerland were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

Lowering his hood and glancing around, he noticed a few pairs of eyes lingering on him, a handful of men in thick coats narrowing their gazes at him and a few young girls blushing and giggling as they admired him. “I don’t have time for this,” he muttered to himself, dragging his suitcase behind him and turning his attention to the mountains. _He thinks I_ _’m stupid,_ he thought as he headed for the small village on the outskirts. _He underestimates me, they all do. I_ _’ll show them that I am better than any assassin they’ve ever seen. And I’ll make sure that Victor knows I don’t take kindly to broken promises._

* * *

 

The fire crackled and danced amongst the logs, each flicker and each gentle wave reflecting over the room. Despite the warmth coming from it, it was still a little cold, and so Victor and Yuri had opted for wrapping themselves in multiple layers of blankets and treating themselves to a warm cup of hot chocolate.

“I’ve never known cold like this,” Yuri admitted, taking a large gulp of his drink.

“It gets colder in Russia,” Victor replied with a chuckle, leaning back on his hands and watching the flames in the fireplace. “And it’s much more bitter too. There’s no escaping it.”

“I can’t imagine anything colder than this.” Yuri took a smaller sip of hot chocolate and sighed as it refreshed the chill in his veins. “It can get cold in the winter in Japan, but we’re usually compensated with a nice summer at least. I can’t even begin to imagine Hasetsu in such cold weather.”

Victor smiled as he turned his attention to Yuri, and trailed his gaze across his scarlet-tinted cheeks and the curl of his lips as he took another sip of hot chocolate. It was becoming increasingly difficult to deny that he had any feelings for him, the spark that he’d felt when he’d first seen him in the banquet hall growing into a raging inferno. He had neglected his love life for far too long, pushed it away in favour of spilling blood and reaping the rewards, and he wished that he’d been more attentive to it; money and talent would only get him so far in life, but the love that he felt for Yuri could keep him secure for the rest of his days.

Yuri could feel Victor’s eyes on him, but it didn’t bother him; if anything he quite liked it, not that he would admit it outright, and definitely not to his face. He’d grown accustomed to the assassin, if such a thing was possible, and he felt comfortable in his company where many would feel intimidated and threatened. He contemplated telling him about his conversation with Phichit that morning and enthusing about the extra help they were getting, but when he glanced up at Victor, he couldn’t do it; he knew that he’d lecture him on his safety and remind him of how much danger he was in, and so with a sigh and a discreet gulp, he placed his empty mug down and settled back into the heap of blankets surrounding him. “Can I ask you something?” he enquired, watching Victor’s eyes flicker for a moment before they focused wholly on him.

“Of course.”

“Why didn’t you kill me? And why have you kept me alive? Surely if a diplomat hired you, they were willing to pay a lot to get rid of me, so why would you jeopardise not only your contract, but your reputation too when you could have taken one shot and been on your way?”

The way Yuri spoke, so frankly and so starkly, broke Victor’s heart, and it took all his strength not to take the man into his arms and comfort him in the only way he knew how. Instead, he reached out and watched the diplomat’s expression for any sign of recoil, and once he was certain that Yuri was comfortable with him touching him, he brushed his fingertips against his cheeks and shifted his hand up to the side of his head. His skin was cold, but his hair was soft and warm, embracing his fingers as they slid into the strands of jet black. “Isn’t it obvious?”


	5. Mutual Agreement

**Chapter 5: Mutual Agreement**

-

“No,” Yuri squeaked, swallowing down the lump in his throat and trying his best to ignore the insistent pounding of his heart. “No, it’s not obvious.”

Victor’s eyes went wide and stark realisation hit him; Yuri didn’t remember what he’d said to him the night of the diplomats ball. He didn’t remember those kind words, those slurred, gentle words that made him realise that he’d been neglecting the two most important things in his life. “It doesn’t matter,” he replied sheepishly, avoiding Yuri’s questioning gaze and wringing his hands, hoping against hope that they could drop the subject and move on. “Forget I ever said anything.”

Yuri shifted to insist that he tell him, sensing that it was something important, but he could see by the way Victor pressed his lips together and refused to face him that getting an answer anytime soon was going to be impossible. Over the months he’d spent in Victor’s company, he’d grown accustomed to his body language and his mannerisms, and so to see him now closing himself off after being so open and honest ignited a spark of concern.

He took in a deep breath and released it slowly seconds later, wanting nothing more than for his heart to calm and his thoughts to quieten. Making himself comfortable again in the blankets wrapped around his shoulders, he finally mustered the courage to reach out to Victor; it felt like a lifetime since he’d reached out to someone, people were always far too preoccupied reaching out for him to ever return the favour. But now it was different, his life was different. He brushed his fingertips over Victor’s bare arm and traced the white lines of scarring, following each path marked on his skin. “You have a lot of scars,” he mused, narrowing his eyebrows and concentrating on the rise and fall of each wound.

“Yeah,” Victor said, coughing gently and tensing his arm so that Yuri could see the remnants of his life better. “I’ve been shot at and stabbed quite a lot. I don’t remember a time when my skin wasn’t scarred.” He let out a short breath and shifted a little closer to him. “I started my training quite young. I needed to put food on the table for my family, and I was good at killing people. My parents never asked about it so I never told them, but when they died the man in charge of the agency took me in, treated me like a son, and made sure I had food to eat and a safe place to sleep. My job as an assassin made sure that I could afford everything that I needed, and I was with people I considered to be family, people who were looking out for me.” He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the diplomat and noticed a tear resting on his cheek, its wet path coming to an abrupt halt as it dripped from his chin and onto the blankets.

“I’m so sorry,” Yuri breathed. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what Victor had been through, and the things he must have seen and done just to survive. It was no life for anyone. He couldn’t say for certain what it was that made him trust the assassin, but there was an inexplainable bond between them, something only his heart could feel, encouraging him to choose emotion over logic.

“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Victor turned in his position and crossed his legs, giving Yuri his full attention. “I’m happy, in a way, and I’m looked after.”

Yuri could feel the swell of guilt rising from his stomach, but he didn’t know what he had to be ashamed of; he hadn’t done anything to harm Victor, quite the opposite, but his heart mourned for the man and his lot in life as though it had been his fault, his existence that had brought him so much suffering.

With his emotions swelling and more tears beginning to slip free, he launched himself forwards and embraced the man he’d come to admire for his strength and determination, holding him tightly and never wanting to let go.

Victor let out a surprised squeak at the sudden movement, but once he’d caught up with what was happening he quickly returned the gesture. Yuri was warm, the heat from the fire lingering on his exposed arms and his pyjamas. He wasn’t sparing in his affections, nor was he eager to loosen his grip. He felt like home. He felt the lost time he’d spent wandering through life instead of living it. “You definitely know how to surprise me,” he jested playfully, letting Yuri rest his head on his shoulder, “but I am unsure of why you’re hugging me.”

Yuri finally drew back and wiped his face free of tears, letting his gaze trace each shade of Victor’s eyes before he spoke again. “For surviving,” he whispered. “And for trusting me enough to be so open about your life.”

 

* * *

 

The insistent buzzing on the wooden bedside cabinet was beginning to grate on Yuri; it was early, far too early for his liking, the sun was still too far away, and with a grumble and a groan, he reached out lazily and grabbed his phone. “Stupid alarm,” he mumbled to himself, his eyes trailing the blindingly bright light and his finger hovering over the pulsating red button. Realising that he hadn’t previously set an alarm, his widening gaze shot up to the name glowing at the top of the incoming call screen. He instantly shook himself from his post-slumber slump and sat up with a start, answering the call with shaking hands. “Phichit? I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were calling. I thought it was my alarm.”

“ _Don’t worry about it,”_ Phichit assured him. _“I know it’s early over there, but I have some news for you. I was going to wait until later, but…”_

“But?” Yuri prompted, wiggling in his position and bringing the duvet up to his chest. The apprehensive tone in Phichit’s voice was beginning to worry him, and a thousand possible answers to his already complicated situation raced through his mind. He began to fear the worst, the terror boiling up inside him and making his stomach turn. “Phichit, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“ _I think I’ve found the man who wants you dead.”_

Yuri’s breath stuck in his throat and he involuntarily whimpered, the rising lump refusing to be swallowed and his words falling short. Now that he was faced with the answer he’d been searching for over the past few months, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to know who had ordered his assassination, who had deliberately gone out of their way to end his life. But he needed to know, not only who it was, but why they’d done it in the first place. “Go on,” he urged, breathing as steadily as he could to keep his growing anxiety in check.

“ _Do you remember the deal Kimoto was trying to do with the Leroy family in Canada last year?”_

“Yes.”

“ _The one that you successfully blocked.”_

“Yes.” Yuri narrowed his eyebrows and bit his lip, wondering where Phichit was going with all of this… and then it hit him, square in the face and without mercy. “Kimoto wants me dead?”

“ _The only way that he could achieve the deal with the Leroy family was if you were out of the way,”_ Phichit explained logically. _“He was spotted in a Swiss bar known for its notorious criminal activity a week after the conference in Russia. I think he may be trying to set up the deal again.”_

Yuri swallowed thickly and heaved a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose in thought and grumbling under his breath. He supposed it could have been worse, but Kimoto was a stubborn man, always getting whatever he wanted no matter the means or timescale, and if just one word got out that he’d survived, he’d be hunted yet again. Only this time he’d know about it; this time he would be aware of the situation, constantly looking over his shoulder and never getting a moments peace, and who was to say that he’d survive this one. The next gun shot he heard may very well be his last.

“ _I know the situation isn’t ideal, but you’ll get through this, Yuri,”_ Phichit said soothingly. _“I’ll do what I can to help you, but in the meantime you have to stay strong.”_

“I know,” Yuri replied plainly, wishing that Victor had taken the shot, that he’d chosen another time to get sentimental and just taken the damn shot. Knowing that one of his own, not only a diplomat but a man of Japan had plotted to kill him, hurt him in more ways than he was willing to admit, and now that Kimoto was yet again trying to set up a deal that would be detrimental to his country, he knew that he couldn’t stay hidden for much longer. He may have tricked the world into thinking that he was dead, but he was still a diplomat, a proud citizen of Japan, and he refused to hide himself away while his country was on the verge of collapse. “Do you know which bar he was spotted in?”

“ _I don’t have the name of it, but it’s located off a main street of the village just below where you’re staying. It’s not easy to spot at first, but you should see a pharmacy and a jewellers, and the side street is by them. From the images I was able to get, there’s a flag above the door with a red X mark on it.”_

“Thank you, Phichit,” Yuri said in earnest; once all of this was over, he was going to ensure he did all he could to make it up to Phichit.

“ _If I find anything else, I’ll call you.”_

After a few mumbled farewells and thanks, Yuri ended the call and placed his phone back down on the bedside table. Just when he thought that his predicament couldn’t get any worse, the world took it as a challenge and proved him wrong. He knew that Kimoto was a sore loser, that he never backed down and he never gave in, no matter how questionable his motives and his ideas were, but Yuri never took him for a sadistic man; he’d always respected him for his strong character and his relentless diplomacy, but now he realised that in attempting to do the same, he’d only painted a target on his chest. Even if someone had have found out that Kimoto had ordered his murder, he would have gotten away with it. He’d have played the diplomatic immunity card and walked free of any crime.

He threw back the covers and lowered himself onto the ground, throwing his dressing gown around his shoulders and running his hands through his hair. If he wanted to be done with the whole horrid business, he had to investigate it for himself, but first he had to tell Victor.

 

* * *

 

“I had no idea you politicians could be so amusing,” Victor voiced as he flicked through the newspaper with an entertained grin. “Wait, are diplomats politicians?” He glanced over the sheets of recent news to gaze questioningly at the man sat opposite him.

“It depends on how you look at it,” the diplomat answered quietly, avoiding all eye contact; he was the man who had been sent to kill him, the man who was keeping him hidden away, and he refused to let himself forget that. _He_ _’s also the man who saved you,_ he reminded himself sternly, _the man who is trying to help you, the man you-_ Yuri shook his head. He couldn’t allow his inner conflicting emotions get the better of him. If he wanted to stay alive, he had to remain focused. “I… I have to…uh…”

Victor lowered the newspaper, Yuri’s verbal stumbling worrying him. “Yuri?” He noticed the trembles in the younger man’s body and shifted his chair so that he could sit beside him, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other reaching out to gently brush his fingertips over his knuckles. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Yuri gulped, closing his eyes momentarily and breathing out slowly. When he look up at Victor, so worried and so concerned, he felt guilty for not telling him about his contact with Phichit sooner. If he was going to remain alive, he had to be honest with the man trying to help him, and he’d never felt as deceitful as he did in that moment. “I recently got in touch with a colleague of mine.”

“What?”

Yuri’s line of sight instantly fell to the polished wooden table and his abandoned cup of coffee, a look of shame taking over his gentle features and a rush of guilt flooding through him at the betrayed tone in Victor’s voice. “I know you advised against it, and I know it’s dangerous, but we need help. We don’t have the resources to do this alone.”

“When did you contact this colleague of yours?” Victor asked, sitting back in his seat with a look that could have soured the milk in seconds.

“A few weeks ago.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Yuri demanded. He didn’t want to play this stupid game anymore, he wanted his freedom, and he was more than willing to fight for it if that was what it took to free him from this hell. “Tell you that I want to be able to walk freely again? Tell you that I am sick of hiding away like some injured animal afraid of the predators waiting to slaughter me? Tell you that it tears me apart to think of my family, my friends, mourning me and suffering?”

Victor opened his mouth to speak, to yell, and scream, and argue, but one look at the tears forming in Yuri’s eyes halted any rash words in their tracks and forced him to properly think about what he was doing.

“I’ve been informed that one of the Japanese diplomats I work with, Kimoto Genichi, is more than likely the one who hired you, and he’s trying to set up a deal with the Leroy family that I previously scuppered. If he’s successful, this could be detrimental to Japan. It’s my job to stop it from happening.”

“It is not your job,” Victor asserted.

“It is my job, Victor!” Yuri insisted, straining his voice to keep himself from shouting. “I’m a diplomat, not a scared little mouse!” The anger was boiling in his veins, his rage rising with each rhythmic fluctuation of his chest. “Kimoto was in a bar not too far from here the week after the Russian conference, meeting with some of the Leroy family’s representatives to start the deal again. I’ve been told of the location, and I’m going to investigate it whether you like it or not. I will not let the future of Japan be put in jeopardy, not while I’m still breathing.”

Victor wanted to be able to talk him out of it, to help him see reason, but he could see that Yuri wasn’t for shifting on the matter; the only thing he could do now was ensure that he didn’t get himself killed in the process. “Are you experienced in criminal investigations? In undercover work and espionage?”

“Not exactly,” Yuri admitted, “but I’ll work it out. I’m not giving up on this.”

“I know you’re not,” Victor assured him, understanding that the diplomat was in a tricky position and he’d chosen the path he wanted to take. “But I do have some skills in those areas. If you want to do this, and I mean you’ve thought about it properly and still want to go ahead with it, I’ll help you, but we do this my way or not at all.”

Yuri gave the silver-haired man a singular nod in agreement and offered him a smile in appreciation. “Thank you, Victor. I really am grateful.”

Victor returned the tender smile and ran his fingers through Yuri’s unkempt, dark curls, resting his hand on his cheek and rubbing away the remnants of the fallen tears with his thumb. “I am the grateful one,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead and drawing back with a growing grin.

Yuri tilted his head in confusion and parted his lips to enquire as to what Victor meant, but his words were abruptly cut short when the doorbell rang and a pounding against the front door shot through the kitchen.

“What the hell…” Victor mumbled under his breath, getting to his feet and checking that his gun was still in his pocket. Upon opening the door, he was rudely pushed aside before he could utter a word, the visitor stronger than his size suggested and his blond hair covered in flakes of melting snow. “Yurio? What are you doing here?”

The young assassin turned on the spot, throwing a glare at Victor and turning back at the sound of gentle footsteps. Spotting a timid, dark-haired man in the archway, he peered back over his shoulder and smirked. “I thought he was supposed to be dead.”

“I can-”

“You told Yakov you’d killed him,” Yurio interjected. “Seems you were just looking for somewhere to stick it.”

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you,” Victor spat. “You think you know it all. You don’t.”

Yurio laughed and shook his neatly styled mop of fair hair, his eyes trained on the senior assassin and the corner of his lips twitching into a grin. “I knew you hadn’t killed him. I knew you’d bottle it at the last minute. You forget that I’ve known you since I was born.”

“Still doesn’t mean you know everything about me,” Victor retorted, glaring down at the teenager coldly. “Now what do you want? Or did you just come here for evidence to take back to Yakov?”

“Oh, I’m not going to tell Yakov.” Yurio shrugged his shoulders and leant against the rising banister. “I’m here to get what you promised me. I’ll keep your dirty little secret on one condition.”

“And what would that be?”

“You get me the senior promotion I want.”  
Victor rolled his eyes and heaved and tired sigh. He should have seen this coming; he knew that someone at the agency would have grown suspicious eventually, but he hadn’t predicted it would be Yurio.

“You made a promise,” Yurio reminded him, pointing an accusing finger at his face. “You swore that you would-”

“Fine,” Victor huffed. “As long as you keep the secret, I’ll get you your promotion.” He received a nod from Yurio and ran his hand through his hair, wondering whether the youngster really would keep to his word or whether this was some sort of trick. “I’m sure Chris won’t mind another one staying with us, but try not to cause too much trouble.”


	6. Dangerous Business

**Chapter 6: Dangerous Business**

-

Yuri stretched out his legs and reclined back against the soft cushions of the sofa, his head finding the comfort of Victor’s chest and the hem of the blanket brushing against his ankles. The fire crackled as remnants of the growing blizzard slipped down the chimney, the flames waving wildly before they settled back into their gentle sways.

“What made you become a diplomat?” Victor inquired, curling one of Yuri’s dark curls around his finger and letting the soft strands slip from his fingertip.

“I always dreamt of being a diplomat,” Yuri replied. “Even at a young age, I wanted to represent my country in a way that would make me feel proud. My friends and my family supported me, and one of my friends, Minako, got me my first job.” He recalled the many times she’d picked him up when he’d made a mistake or felt too far out of his depth, the way his mother had beamed when he finally became a certified diplomat and the tight hug his father had dragged him into after his first successful meeting. He remembered his sister’s jokes that had floated through his closed door to cheer him up whenever he’d been upset, and Yuuko’s elated grin and supportive words when he’d been named one of Japan’s top diplomats. “Last year, a kid from Japan, Minami I think his name was, approached me at a hotel I was staying in and told me he wanted to be just like me when he was older.” He smiled at the memory of red and yellow hair and shaking hands, and the shock that had stricken him following the boy’s sincere admission.

Victor chuckled, wishing that more people had been like Minami; Yuri deserved adoration for his work and recognition for all of the effort he put into everything he did. “What did you say in response?”

“I just sort of froze. I didn’t know what to say, but it made me realise that I was doing good work and that’s all I ever wanted to do.” Yuri glanced up at Victor, his nose brushing the Russian’s jawline and his lips a matter of centimetres from his skin. He wondered if Victor had had dreams when he was younger, whether he’d wished for a different sort of life and whether it was still possible for him now. “Sometimes I couldn’t help but think that I was doing a terrible job, and that I should just give up on my dreams.”

Victor felt his heart skip and jolt at the thought of Yuri feeling so depressed that he’d give up on something as precious as a desired aspiration. He’d spent so long ignoring his own life wishes, dismissing them in favour of simply surviving, and it was only in that moment that he began to realise just how important aspirations were. “The world was cruel to you the day it made you a dreamer,” he breathed, tucking a strand of jet black hair behind his ear. “There’s nothing worse than having them crushed.”

Yuri shifted so that he could be closer to Victor, the heat from his body enveloping itself around him and keeping the chill from reaching him. He could feel his breath hitching and his heart racing, the overwhelming feeling of love rushing through his body with every beat. It struck him how comforted and relaxed he felt in his arms.

Victor wanted nothing more than to erase the tiny gap between them, to show Yuri just how much he meant to him and hold him as close as he could, but his mind was swift in dismissing his heart’s desires. “But you are strong, Yuri,” he told the man in his arms. “Stronger than you know, and you will get back to your dreams.”

“What if I have new dreams? What if the dream I had is still there, but now I have a new one?” Yuri lifted his gaze to Victor’s soft eyes, the corner of his mouth slipping into an embarrassed smile and his breath stuttering nervously. “What if only one of those dreams can happen? How do I choose which one I want?”

In response, Victor placed his hand on Yuri’s chest, feeling the flurried thrums from his heart as they pattered against his fingertips. “You follow your heart.” He could see the confusion in Yuri’s expression, his conflicting dreams causing him mental anguish and his mind and his heart at odds. Wanting to be of some comfort to him, he pressed a tender kiss to his forehead and wrapped his arms around him a little tighter, bundling him close and keeping him warm. Yuri snuggled into him and pushed himself up so that his nose was a matter of millimetres from his, and after getting a small nod in reply to Victor’s silent question, he closed the gap between them. His lips skimmed Yuri’s for a few seconds, the faintest of tickles pressed against his mouth before the emotion welled inside him, his hands gripping his waist and his neck craning to kiss the diplomat harder.

Breaking apart from Victor was more difficult than Yuri had anticipated, but the moment his lips slipped from the assassin’s, a smile broke across his features, a breath of relief lingering in the space between them. He couldn’t push his feelings down any more, couldn’t go another second without letting his heart speak over his mind. He’d spent the past few months tip-toeing around how he felt for him, wondering whether it was the constant proximity or the fact that he was so keen on keeping him safe, but the moment his lips had connected with Victor’s, he realised that he loved him because he’d opened up to him, trusted him enough to take those tentative steps and meet him half-way between their worlds. Part of him wondered whether he should be doing this, whether he should be getting so involved with an assassin, but he’d spent his whole life worrying about the future, and in that moment, all he wanted to do was focus on the present.

 

* * *

 

“You know the plan,” Victor said, adjusting his leather gloves and keeping his focus on the darkened street ahead. “Discretion is key here. We go in, find out what we can, and leave. That means no trouble, no tricks, and definitely no weapons.” He glanced down at Yurio and raised an eyebrow, ignoring the rebellious teenager’s vulgar gesture in response.

“I don’t know why you’re convinced I’m going to cause trouble,” Yurio grumbled, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“Chicago,” the older assassin responded vaguely. Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed Yurio scowl and shake his head, but it got his point across; he couldn’t have anything or anyone disrupting his plan. So much was at stake, and one wrong move could end in devastation. “Look, all you have to do is follow my lead. That’s all.”

“Story of my life,” Yurio muttered under his breath.

Once Victor was satisfied that the promising assassin wouldn’t cause any unnecessary disturbances, he turned to Yuri, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “We will be okay,” he promised. “You don’t have to say anything. Just stay by my side, and we’ll be out of there as soon as possible.”

Yuri nodded as confidently as he could manage and stood to his full height, pushing his shoulders back and adopting an unimpressed look; if he was to play the part of Victor’s associate, he had to not only act like it, but look like it too. He had to imagine a life of killing, of blood and merciless murder, but the more he thought about it, the more anxious he grew.

The trio turned and made their way down the gloomy alleyway, Victor sweet-talking their way into the club and subtly joining in with the night’s activities. It was difficult to see much in the intermittent flashes of light thrown from the spotlights, but every decent assassin was adept in navigating in tricky circumstances. Unfortunately, Yuri was not, and so he had to rely on the brush of Victor’s jacket to ensure he didn’t get lost in the rainbow of colour and the shadows hovering where the light failed to reach.

“I’ll keep a lookout,” Yurio offered, flicking a strand of golden hair from in front of his eyes and wandering over to an unoccupied booth before either could reply.

Victor only chanced a peek over his shoulder at his colleague before he returned his attention to Yuri, noticing the lost look strewn across his features and guiding him towards the bar. “Keep close,” he whispered, raising a finger to the bartender and receiving two small shot glasses containing an opaque, brown liquid. “You don’t have to drink that,” he told him. “The liquor can be an acquired taste, but it would look odd in here if you didn’t have a drink in your hand.”

Yuri gave him a nervous nod in understanding and tried to adjust his demeanour; he was shaking from head to foot, his wide-eyed gaze skimming the room with caution, and if someone saw him looking so out of place he could blow the entire mission. “I didn’t think places like this existed,” he admitted, breathing out heavily and throwing back the alcohol without a second thought. The potent liquid coated his mouth and burnt his throat, and with a gasp he began to splutter. Luckily, Victor was on hand to aid him and keep any unwanted attention from being drawn their way.

“I told you it was an acquired taste,” he chortled, patting his back.

“I…” Yuri spluttered again, his voice hoarse and the unpleasant sensation in his throat finally beginning to dim. “I didn’t realise it was that strong.”

“Don’t drink this one,” Victor advised, getting another glass from the bartender and placing it securely in Yuri’s hand before turning to one of the many undesirables nursing empty glasses at the bar.

Being left to his own devices didn’t make matters any easier for the diplomat, the tie around his neck feeling unusually tight and the breaths stuttering through his lips as he struggled to breathe. He didn’t realise how stifling it would be in the secret club, and all he wanted to do in that moment was run as far away from it’s dangerous presence as he could.

Taking in a composing breath and releasing it firmly, he glanced around and caught the unforgiving glare of a large, stocky man, his lips pressed together into a snarl and his gaze fear-inducing. It certainly did the trick as far as Yuri was concerned, and he quickly averted his eyes to the chipped glass of the bar surface, skimming his fingers over what he assumed were bullet holes.

Victor finished speaking to one of the assassins and clapped his shoulder, chuckling with the man before he turned back to Yuri, much to the diplomat’s relief. “Kimoto came here a week before the conference and began enquiring about assassins,” he explained, leaning in close to Yuri’s ear. “He was directed to the agency I work for in Russia, timing it with the conference in Sochi. It seems the deal you scuppered with the Leroy family of Canada was indeed his motivation.” He let out a short sigh and leant his hip against the corner of the bar. “Some of the people in here were to gain from that deal, so be careful.”

Yuri’s heart plummeted. He remembered talks about a contract with a Canadian representative during a meeting with the Japanese diplomats not long before the conference in Sochi, but he hadn’t realised that his actions had inadvertently prevented it from going ahead. When Kimoto had mentioned it in Russia, he’d assumed it was to put him to shame and make him look like a fool, but he was swiftly beginning to realise that that wasn’t the case at all. “So, what do we do now?” he asked.

“Drink up and leave,” Victor replied, downing his third drink and scanning the area for a discreet exit.

 

Yurio leant back against the solid wood of the bench and tapped his fingertips against the liquor-stained table, tracing the imprints left by spilt alcohol and small glasses. His cold glare skimmed the room, taking in the various exits and the large men drinking with their colleagues. He recognised many of them, most of them having spoken down to him at some point and his scowl lingering on them for a few seconds longer than was acceptable. If Victor kept to his word and secured him the promotion he craved, he’d make sure that nobody ever sneered at him again. He would become the best assassin the world had ever seen, climb higher than Victor himself and prove to those fools that Yuri Plisetsky wasn’t to be mocked so carelessly.

“This seat taken?”

At the sound of the low tone, Yurio’s hard glare shot up to a dark-haired stranger stood opposite him. “Huh?”

“Is this seat taken?” the man asked again, raising a thick eyebrow.

“No,” Yurio replied, drawing out his response in confusion. Whenever he was in a bar or a club, he was always made to sit on his own, silent and vigilant, a lookout for the more senior of his profession, but he supposed that since his superiors weren’t there and Victor was too busy flirting, he’d allow himself some company; it might be nice to have someone to talk to while he waited. “Kazakhstan, right?”

The man settled into the opposite bench and nodded. “Yeah.” He took a sip of his drink and held out his hand. “Otabek.”

“Yuri,” the Russian assassin replied, shaking Otabek’s hand and narrowing his eyebrows. “But most call me Yurio.”

“I know who you are. We trained together in Russia for a while when when we were younger. I doubt you remember.”

Yurio’s eyes went wide and he recalled his younger years; there had been a boy from Kazakhstan in his classes, raven-haired and sullen in expression, but determined and driven beyond belief. “I remember,” he assured him, resting his arms on the table. “I’m surprised you remember me though.”

“You have the eyes of a soldier, Yuri Plisetsky,” Otabek told him, his unwavering gaze settled on him as though he was surveying something so minute and yet so important that it required his full attention. “That’s not something you forget so easily.”

“A soldier?”

“Yes.”

Yurio pondered on the description, his demeanour changing as he lost himself in thought; he’d been called many things before. Small. Pipsqueak. Wannabe. Troublemaker. He’d never been compared to a figure of strength, he was always something small, something insignificant that made the older assassin’s feel superior to him. His ability to fight and be brave had never crossed their minds, and yet it had in an instant with Otabek. “I-” He wanted to thank him, to ensure he knew that his words were well received, but his response was cut short by a smash and a loud growl emanating from the bar.

When he shifted to look towards the source of the noise, he noticed a broad-shouldered man leering over Yuri, a shattered glass by his feet and his hands clenched into fists. “Shit,” Yurio mumbled under his breath, instantly pushing himself out of his seat.

“He’s Yuri Katsuki,” the snarling thug yelled, jabbing the diplomat’s shoulder harshly, “the one who scuppered the Leroy deal.”

All eyes were on the bar, the silence that proceeded the accusations becoming host to scraping chairs and revealed weaponry as many of the club’s occupants rose from their chairs. “You sure?” one asked.

“Of course I’m sure.”

“I think you have the wrong person,” Victor said calmly, putting on his usual air of charm. “My associate is definitely not a diplomat.”

“Shut it, Nikiforov,” the taller man hissed, pointing his knife at Victor and then settling the tip against Yuri’s throat. “You’ve caused us a lot of trouble, Mr Katsuki. You’ve made a lot of people in this bar incredibly angry.”

Victor could see the pressure the man was putting on the hilt of the knife, slowly driving it forwards. It wouldn’t be long before it broke the skin. Glancing around and spotting Yurio and another man by the far door, he discretely took hold of Yuri’s hand and held on tight. In one swift move he wrenched on his arm to pull him away and kicked the armed man in his shin. “Go,” he told Yuri in urgency, pushing him towards Yurio. “We need to get out of here.”

Yurio watched with an unblinking gaze as Victor acted in haste, moving to push the door open once the pair had begun to flee. “Trust you to pick the biggest guy in here,” he commented, following after the pair once he’d gotten a subtle nod from Otabek.

“In my defence, he picked us,” Victor replied, his hand firmly clutching onto Yuri’s. “It’s not like I go out looking for a fight.”

“You could have fooled me.”

Victor ignored Yurio’s retort, needing to keep his mind focused. Just run, he told himself sternly. There’s no time to- The shot that rang out in the misty evening gloom was enough to shock him out of his thoughts, his heart jolting and his head snapping round to peer over his shoulder. There was a group of hit men in fast pursuit, one of them holding a shotgun out in front of him. He didn’t think it had met it’s mark until he felt a resistance from Yuri, his arm being pulled back to the stationary diplomat. “Yuri?” He followed his gaze as it slipped from his eyes and dropped to his chest, his white shirt quickly becoming stained. The red patch grew and grew until it was dripping through the fabric, the displaced droplets of blood gushing out of him in thick streams.

Victor caught him as he fell, his shaking arms gripping Yuri’s fragile form and tears welling in his eyes. Refusing to give their pursuers another look, he balanced the unconscious man in his arms and pushed himself into action again, following after Yurio and keeping himself composed. “Don’t leave me, Yuri,” he breathed, glancing down at the love of his life failing in his arms. “Please don’t leave me alone in this world.”


	7. A Kiss and a Vow

**Chapter 7: A Kiss and a Vow**

  
-

The silence in the vibrant chalet bedroom was all encompassing, and Victor could almost hear each second that passed; the air was suffocating him, the waiting beginning to chip away at his calm demeanour, and it took all of his strength not to break down completely. Looking upon Yuri, comatose and barely alive, shattered his heart into a million irreparable pieces, the guilt boiling in his veins threatening to burst the longer he watched over him, but he couldn’t look away. Yuri needed him, and he refused to leave his side until he’d recovered.

“How is he?” Yurio asked from the doorway, leaning against the frame and crossing his arms over his chest. If the fragile bundle in the over-sized bed was anything to go by, the answer wasn’t going to be positive. The wounded diplomat seemed to be dicing with death and losing, his unusually pale complexion and his drained appearance miles away from the rosy-cheeked, nervous man he’d met just a week ago.

Edging slowly into the room, he could see how exhausted Victor was; he’d never seen him like this, so withered and distant, and it was beginning to worry him. It was as though the more Yuri fell into the cold embrace of eternal darkness, so did Victor, their lives entwined and being pulled further and further into the shadows.

“He’s still breathing,” Victor replied, sitting himself up in his seat and rubbing his chin, feeling the grains of stubble that were starting to form. “The doctor was able to stabilise him, but there isn’t much more that can be done. All we can do is wait.” His fists clenched and flexed as he fought to keep his composure; the world could fall down around him, but he had to stay calm for Yuri’s sake.

Turning to Yurio, he gave the teenager a weak smile and reached out to pat his arm. “I should thank you for enabling us to escape so quickly,” he said earnestly, bowing his head in gratitude. “You did well.”

“It was Otabek really.” Yurio shrugged and perched himself on the edge of the bed, glancing down at Yuri and wondering what would have happened had they not acted so quickly. Instead of a single injury, it could have ended up creating three new corpses, but deep down he wished that he’d have been quicker; maybe that way none of them would have had to suffer needlessly. “If it hadn’t have been for him, we never would have gotten back here unseen.”

“Nevertheless, you still helped us.”

Yurio could hear the break in Victor’s voice as he spoke, the crackle speaking of his darkest fears through the mask of appreciation. It was so far from the confident, irritating Victor that he’d grown up with that he began to wonder whether any of the true him was still left. Or had that not been the true him at all? Had he lived as much of a lie as he had?

“Once Yuri has woken up and is recovering, we will leave Switzerland. I won’t ask you to come with us, you may return to Russia if you wish.”

“Victor, he may not wake up,” Yurio pointed out. It had been days since the incident at the club, and as each day had passed, Yuri had been slowly failing with no sign of a swift recovery. In his heart he knew that it would be a miracle if the diplomat survived the night, never mind wake and recover enough for them to leave.

“He will,” Victor insisted, taking hold of Yuri’s unresponsive hand and gently smoothing his thumb over his warm skin.

“But what if-”

“He will wake up, Yurio.” Victor glanced up at the younger assassin, desperately trying to hold onto the thought that his love would pull through this terrible ordeal and make a stable recovery; he couldn’t bear the alternative. “He has to.”

 

* * *

 

A hand, a touch, a shot…and then darkness. Cold shaking hands gripped him as he jostled, the sound of the bullet ringing shrill and loud in his ears. It was all he remembered, at least before the pain settled in. Now his body was alight with agony, each vein a burning inferno and the hole in his chest a gaping wound of shredded skin and oozing blood.

Yuri woke with a roaring scream, sitting upright and grasping at the bandages wound around his chest and torso. He couldn’t breathe, the air he was dragging into his mouth wasn’t reaching his lungs. He was drowning, dying. Every bone in his body was being crushed, squashed, destroyed in the most unforgiving way, and all he wanted was for it to end.

The noise that burst through Yuri’s lips was so pained and so sudden that Victor was shaken straight out of his restless slumber and almost tripped as he got to his feet, stumbling wearily to the bedside and placing his hands on his tear-drenched cheeks. “Yuri, it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here. Hush now.” His words didn’t make the slightest bit of difference, and remembering what the doctor had advised before he’d left, he quickly turned to the machines the diplomat was hooked up to and pressed at the buttons on the side, the pain-relieving fluid dripping down the tube and into Yuri’s hand. “The pain will go soon,” he promised, returning to his beloved Yuri and cradling him in his shaking arms. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Somewhere in his Victor’s embrace, Yuri found solace, the screams fading into gentle whimpers as the medication began to put out the fire raging through his body. “Victor,” he whispered against the assassin’s shoulders. “It hurts.”

“I know, but the pain will go soon.” He smoothed down the midnight tussles of the diplomat’s unkempt hair and held him close, carefully avoiding the bandages and the hole in his chest. He drew back once Yuri had calmed down and wiped his cheeks clean of tears, thanking everything good left in the world that he was awake. “You had me worried,” he breathed in relief, “but you’re all right now.” He could feel his own tears beginning to stream down his cheeks, the wet paths dripping from his chin. He tried to remain composed, for Yuri’s sake more than anything else, but looking upon the man he loved so shaken and terrified broke him, damaged him in a way that nothing else in the world could. “I’m so sorry, Yuri. It’s all my fault.”

Now that the pain relief was calming his distressed mind, he could recall what had happened to him, the events of the night in the club rushing back to him in a wave of fright and shock. He was shot. He collapsed. Someone caught him, got him away from the scene. His eyes drifted up to Victor’s devastated expression and he shifted the stray strands of silver hair from in front of his eyes. “No, it’s not,” Yuri assured him, bringing the assassin in closer and giving him a chaste kiss. “We got what we needed, didn’t we?”

“But at what cost?” Victor reasoned, holding onto Yuri as though he was his lifeline.

“I’m fine now,” Yuri replied. A twinge in his chest caught him off his guard and he bit back a yelp, the breath that followed trembling through his lips as he fought to remain calm. “That is all that matters, Victor. We got what we went for, and I’m sure I’ll make a speedy recovery. Please don’t blame yourself. If anything it was my fault for-”

“No. Don’t say that.”

Yuri gently pushed himself backwards, leaning against the pillows and tentatively stretching his numbing limbs. “I think it’s safe to say we took a risk, and we’re lucky to have gotten out alive.” He glanced around the quiet room, his eyes skimming the medical machines and the few lamps lighting the luxurious space, and noticed that someone was missing. “Where’s Yurio? Is he okay? Is he still here? He wasn’t hurt, was he?”

“Calm down, Yuri,” Victor chuckled, aiding him in returning to the comfort of the feather pillows. “Yurio is fine. He’s downstairs. The last time I checked on him, he was attempting to eat everything in the fridge. Well, at least that’s what it looked like he was doing.”

The diplomat gave a small, breathy laugh, glad to hear that the teenager had escaped the ordeal unscathed. He’d never have forgiven himself if anything had happened to him. “I feel sleepy. Will you lay down with me?” He reached out for Victor and smiled when his hand was received warmly, cuddling close to the assassin as he wound his arms around him.

“Sleep now,” he whispered, kissing his cheek and shifting so that Yuri could get comfortable in his arms. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

 

* * *

 

The air was cold and bitter, but to Yuri, having been bed-bound for weeks, it felt like heaven; the snow ghosted his face, the icy breeze caressed his skin, and every breath felt like a blessing. He could have stayed out there for hours, drinking in the twinkling lights of the village below and embracing the nature around him. There was so much beauty to take in that he didn’t want to blink in case he missed something.

For Victor, it was a relief to see Yuri up and about again, getting some fresh air and on the road to a stable recovery. “I thought I’d find you out here,” he said, tenderly wrapping his arms around the dark-haired diplomat and peering over his raven strands to gaze at the village below. He could see why Yuri had taken to the balcony; Switzerland held many beauties, but looking down at the accumulation of small lodges and flickering lights put him at ease, and allowed him to feel more at peace than he had in a long time.

“I couldn’t resist,” Yuri admitted, relaxing into Victor’s warm embrace. “I may be panicked up here, frightened out of my mind, fearing what’s around the corner at every turn, but down there, everything is going on as normal. People are going to work, taking their children to school, sitting around the table for dinner and laughing with their loved ones.” He glanced down at Victor’s hands laced together on his torso and lightly brushed his fingertips against them. “It reminds me of what I’m missing, but it also reminds me of what I had with my family.”

“I’m sorry,” Victor said in earnest, pressing a gentle kiss to Yuri’s growing curls. “I wish you could-”

A loud boom shot through the air and in an instant Yuri’s relaxed state vanished, the noise reverberating through his body and his mind a mass of panic. He let out a short scream, followed by another, turning around to clutch onto Victor as he broke down. “It’s happening again… Victor, I…I can’t breathe… my chest…”

Victor didn’t waste any time in getting Yuri back to his room, lifting him carefully and placing him by the bed as he moved to close the balcony doors. When he turned back around, the distressed diplomat was on his knees, his hands grasping at the short fibres of the carpet and his body wracked with shakes. “Breathe slowly, Yuri,” he instructed softly, joining him on the ground. “That’s it, you’re safe now. I think it was just a car backfiring. Nobody is going to get shot.” He held onto the man’s arms and waited for his panic to fade, giving him all the time he needed to recover. “Would you like a glass of water?”

Yuri shook his head and pushed himself up, his hands finding Victor’s chest and the steady beats of his heart. “Promise me something,” he breathed, swallowing down the lump in his throat and fighting his anxiety to get his words out. “Promise me that if you have to kill me, kill me quick.”


	8. Chapter 8: Close Call

**Chapter 8: Close Call**

  
-

“Oh, Yuri, I want to go to that stall,” Victor enthused, pointing at a silken canopy like a giddy child. “And that one too!” The vibrancy and the illumination around him was enchanting, and it was difficult not to get excited when there was so much wonder to see and taste. The Chinese market was worlds away from the snow of Russia and the Swiss chalet, and Victor wanted to experience as much of it as he could.

Yuri smiled, glad to see that he was enjoying himself. He refused to close his eyes for a single moment just to preserve the expression of awe lingering on Victor’s features, the twinkle in his eyes and the slight gap between his supple lips as he took in the market around them. It was a nice change to the frightened tears and solemn glances.

“It’s all magnificent,” the Russian declared as he lifted a paper bag up to his mouth and took the last bite of the sweet pastry within, savouring the sugary taste as he swallowed. “I only wish we could stay here longer.”

“Me too,” Yuri muttered sorrowfully. Despite the fact he was still being hunted, he felt a sense of calm settle into his core as he strolled through the lantern-lit market, with the man who’d stolen his heart by his side. It was the kind of bliss he could quite easily get used to. “I like this,” he mused. “It’s so calm and so peaceful. Almost makes me forget about everything else that’s going on.”

Victor wound his arm around the smaller man’s waist and eased him closer. “It won’t always be like this,” he promised. “It may take time, but there will come a day when you feel safe. I’ll make sure you have that, Yuri, even if it costs me my life.”

“I hope it doesn’t.” Yuri nestled his head against Victor’s shoulder and yawned, his bleary-eyed gaze trailing from the bright stalls and glittering lanterns to the man holding onto him so desperately. “I love you, and I’d hate for something to happen to you,” he sighed in a daze, a few blinks away from falling asleep.

The Russian’s cheeks flushed red and a breath caught in his throat, the vibrant atmosphere around him all but forgotten as his attention was lured away. He could feel his heart jolt into a quickened rhythm as he processed the mumbled words. All he wanted to do in that moment was scoop Yuri up in his arms and hold him for as long as possible, shield him from the darkness of the world and protect him with everything he had. “You appear tired,” he forced through his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to Yuri’s forehead. “Let’s get you back to the hotel and to bed before you pass out on me.”

“I’m fine. We still have the rest of the market to explore.”

“We can come back tomorrow. My priority is you.”

 

The lobby was in an all-encompassing state of harmony when Victor and Yuri arrived back at their lodgings, the fountain trickling water into the stone basin and the few occupants far too preoccupied to take any notice of them.

“Just a few more steps,” Victor prompted, keeping a tight hold of the sleepy diplomat and aiding him into their hotel room. It was a modest room with only a double bed and a wardrobe, and a tiny ensuite, but Victor was cautious of where he took Yuri, and a small hotel in an unknown region of Beijing seemed like the logical place to stay.

Yuri stumbled from Victor’s grasp and collapsed onto the bed, more than happy to remain in his sprawled position and sleep. He felt a gentle tug at his coat and pushed himself up once he realised that Victor was trying to help him, gazing up at the silver-haired man as he cared for him and tentatively reaching out to stroke the rise of his cheekbones.

“I need to check your bandages,” Victor breathed, aiding Yuri as carefully as he could; whenever he asked Yuri if he was all right, he got the same answer and the same smile, but he could see that he was in pain. With every twitch and every minuscule squeak, he could sense Yuri’s agony and discomfort. A knife to the heart would have hurt him less than seeing the man he loved in such pain.

Once he’d removed his shirt, he slowly started to peel away the bandages wrapped around him. The last few inches were the worst, the cloth having stuck to the wound and the linen requiring a little more force to remove them. “It’s off now,” Victor soothed, grabbing the first aid pack from his bag and retrieving the wipes and fresh bandages. “It’s not looking as bad as yesterday, so I think it’s starting to heal.” He looked up at Yuri, hoping to see some sort of acknowledgement, but his brown eyes were fixed on him, as though the hole in his chest was nothing and Victor was everything. He tried not to let his gaze distract him as he worked at re-bandaging his injury, but he could feel those warm eyes glossing over him, warming him from head to toe. “If I ever see the man who shot you I’d-”

“Do nothing,” Yuri interceded, resting his hands on Victor’s chest and grasping hold of his shirt. “I don’t want people getting hurt because of me, no matter what they’ve done.” He felt the soft brush of Victor’s lips against his forehead and breathed out gently, relaxing against the taller man and wanting nothing more than to melt into his arms. Looking up into his eyes felt like home, warming him and keeping him safe, and acting on instinct, he pushed himself up onto his tiptoes and gave Victor an innocent kiss. When they broke apart he could feel the heat in his cheeks spreading through his body, but he wasn’t given long to notice it before Victor returned the gesture, grasping onto his hips and pulling him closer.

The kiss was desperate, full of short pants and whimpers of desire, the two lovers refusing to break apart as they manoeuvred themselves back onto the bed. Their breath fused in the few seconds they took in-between each passion-filled kiss, the heat between them beginning to grow as Victor carefully placed his weight on top of the diplomat. “Yuri…” he keened, every sense alight.

After a few short kisses, he removed his shirt and threw it onto the floor before placing his knees on either side of Yuri’s hips. He felt so beautifully alive, each touch, each tender caress bringing him a blessed pleasure he was desperate to obey without question.

For Yuri, it was the most overwhelming feeling he’d ever experienced, his heart pounding so hard he could hear the flurried beats ringing in his ears, but Victor’s kisses slowly began to ease him into a state of calm, the tender movements of his body against his allowing him to savour every moment and embrace a love he never thought he’d have. It was more than just instinct or primal desire; it was fate, it was something unknown and unexplainable, and it was right. Oh, so deliciously right.

 

* * *

 

Yuri shot awake at the sound of the shrill rings, his distorted vision eventually settling on the burst of light emanating from his phone. A cold chill bit at his bare chest as he sat himself up and reached out, tapping at the green button a few times before he managed to hit it. “Hey, Phichit,” he mumbled into the receiver, forcing himself to resist the temptation of sleep whenever he blinked. “Is everything okay? It’s sort of late.”

“ _You need to get out of there now. You need to get away from Beijing.”_

Yuri narrowed his eyebrows and wondered for a moment whether he was dreaming, but when Victor stirred beside him and disturbed the covers, he felt another cold nip against his skin and groaned in realisation. “Slow down. What are you talking about? Why do we need to leave?”

“ _Kimoto was spotted in the city. If he sees you…”_

“I’ll be fine,” Yuri spoke through the rising lump in his throat. “Victor and I will leave in the morning, and we’ll make sure we are discreet about where we go.” He tried to convince himself that he would be all right, that himself and Victor would be out of Beijing within a few hours, but knowing that Kimoto was in the city gave his anxiety the kindling it needed to flare again, and it wasn’t long before the spiral of panic descended into full blown fear. He felt a twinge in his chest, the bandages squeezing his torso with every breath, and it made him wonder what a bullet through the head would feel like in the moments before it killed him; would he have just enough time to register the agony surging through him before he died, or would that be it the moment the bullet touched his skin? Would his life really be over that quickly, as though it meant nothing?

“ _Did you go out?”_ Phichit asked, shocking Yuri from his terrifying thoughts.

“Huh… oh, I only went to the market, but Victor was with me.”

“ _Is there a possibility you could have been seen?”_

Yuri opened his mouth to speak, but his words stuck in his throat and choked him from within. He didn’t know whether he’d been seen or what the likelihood was that he’d been spotted, but just the thought of Kimoto catching him was enough to render him completely speechless.

Seeing that Yuri was struggling to form a sound, never mind actual words, Victor took the phone from him and raised it to his ear, using his free hand to comfort the panicked diplomat. “Phichit? It’s Victor. What’s going on?”

“ _Kimoto’s in Beijing,”_ Phichit responded. _“As far as I know, he’s still in the city.”_

“Thank you,” Victor said humbly. “Your help is appreciated. I will make sure Yuri contacts you as soon as we are in the clear.” He quickly ended the call and placed Yuri’s phone on the nightstand before he gathered the sobbing man into his arms, holding him against his chest. “Hush now, sweetheart,” he soothed, brushing his fingers through his hair. “We’ll get through this.”

“It’s over,” Yuri mumbled. “He’s found me. I’m going to die.” He could feel his heart racing almost to a numbing sensation, his chest tightening and his ability to breathe becoming hindered. He was sick and tired of being afraid, of having to battle his anxieties daily and live with the horrifying thought he could be killed at any moment. He’d done nothing to warrant such terrors, and yet there he was in the arms of the man sent to kill him, a hole in his chest and a deadly threat within the vicinity. For all he knew, he was hours, even minutes, away from death.

“No.” The tears slipped from Victor’s eyes before he could stop them, the tiny droplets streaming down his cheeks and filling his body with a sorrow he’d never experienced before; it felt like his new world was being stripped bare, leaving his life naked and exposed to the harsh realities he’d tried so long to ignore. “You’re not going to die. I won’t let that happen.”

 

* * *

 

“What if he’s here? Or if he saw me at the market and has sent someone else to kill me?”

Victor placed his arm around Yuri’s waist and kept his eyes on his surroundings, refusing to let anything pass him by; he had to act quickly if their plans were disrupted, and the last thing he wanted was to be caught off guard. “Keep your eyes on me,” he told him. “Nobody else, just me.”

Yuri did as he’d been told and turned his gaze to Victor’s sharp features, his eyes trailing the flop of silver hair that lingered at the edge of his vision and the concentration in his eyes as he surveyed their surroundings. It calmed him somewhat to focus on Victor, someone who loved him, who would protect him when he couldn’t protect himself, but nothing, not even Victor, could have stopped him from panicking when he locked eyes with his worst nightmare.

At first Victor thought Yuri had stopped because of a physical obstacle, but after searching the area he noticed that Yuri’s wide gaze was on something behind him. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He got nothing but a fearful squeak from the trembling man, his body frozen in place as he stared out of the window. In curiosity, he peered over his shoulder, noticing a stationary figure on the opposite glass bridge; he didn’t need to ask to guess who it was, Yuri’s fright alone was enough.

Without wasting another second, he kept a tight grip on the diplomat and moved him swiftly away from the windows.

“It was him,” Yuri whimpered. “It was Kimoto. He saw me, Victor. He saw…” He placed his hands over his face, heart pounding and sweat dripping down his forehead. All he could feel was fear, pure and overwhelming as it coursed through his body. This was it. It was all over.

Victor caught Yuri as he collapsed, moving him to a shadowed corridor and holding him close. “Try not to panic, my sweet Yuri,” he said tenderly, his mind hurtling into overdrive. “I’ll get you away from here.”


	9. Chapter 9: The Red Message

**Chapter 9: The Red Message**

 -

The rolling tendrils of steam had barely begun to settle when Victor took his first sip of coffee, swallowing the drink with a satisfied sigh as the warmth of it spread through his body. He was used to the bitter chill of Russian winters, and he’d been caught in snow storms on more occasions than he could count, but the Italian weather could be almost as unforgiving, enough at least that a hot drink and a well-heated hotel room gave him a moment to appreciate the simple comforts. He only parted with the drink for long enough to shrug his jacket off and throw it over the chair. “It’s getting cold out there,” he commented, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed with a contented breath. “Almost as cold as Russia.”

Yuri flashed him a knowing smile and continued flicking through his social media feeds, catching up with the world beyond the four walls of his isolation.

Victor couldn’t help but stare as the diplomat heaved a gentle sigh and collapsed back onto the bed, his hair falling to the right and his eyes trailing the screen. “You look so cute like that,” he mused, sipping his coffee and admiring the man.

“I’m far from cute,” Yuri snorted, raising his eyebrow at the Russian as he drank the last few drops of coffee and lay down beside him, so close he could feel his breath tickling his neck.

“I beg to differ.”

Yuri glanced out of the corner of his eyes, taking in the calming features and icy blue eyes focused solely on him; he’d never seen such adoration in someone before, never seen such a gleam of serenity, and unable to resist the Russian’s charm, he tilted his head and kissed him. Whenever he felt Victor’s lips, the world around him vanished. He forgot about the threat he was under and the events of the past few months that had left him cut off from the rest of civilisation, Victor captivating every inch of him and soothing him into a state of tranquillity.

They parted for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Yuri to lock his phone and place it on the bedside table.

“Did you find anything interesting?” Victor inquired, letting out a surprised squeak as Yuri swung a leg over his waist.

“Phichit has updated his selfie collection, and Chris has been taking some rather… revealing pictures, but nothing could ever be as interesting as you, Victor.”

The assassin was caught completely off his guard, his eyes going wide and his undivided attention pinpointed on the seductive look emanating across Yuri’s features. “There’s an Eros in you, just waiting to burst free,” he maundered, reaching up and tracing Yuri’s lips with his thumb. “It’s… it’s breathtaking.” He ran his fingers across his jawline and slid a finger under his chin, motioning for him to come closer. When their lips met again, he wound his arms around Yuri’s shoulders and stroked his soft, dark curls. Every second was heaven, every shift of their bodies a blessing, and had it not been for the knock on the door he would have refused to part from his heart’s desire. “It’s okay,” he said, shuffling from the bed and motioning for Yuri to remain comfortable. “I’ll get it.”

Padding across the room and smoothing down his shirt, he peered around the door and only opened it fully when he saw one of the hotel’s receptionists stood in the hallways outside.

“This came for you,” she said with a sweet smile, handing over a small envelope. “If you require any assistance, don’t hesitate to contact the reception desk.”

Victor thanked her and turned the envelope over in his hands a few times before holding it out to Yuri. “It’s addressed to you,” he said, perching on the edge of the bed as the other man crawled closer and took hold of the envelope in shaking hands.

Yuri stared at the six letters almost shining from the note in glaring red ink. _I know where you are, Katsuki._ He repeated it in his mind, not needing to investigate further to know who had sent him such a threat. “It’s from Kimoto,” he explained, forcing the words through dry lips and giving the note to Victor. “He… uh, he carries around a red pen with him, in his top pocket, sort of like a… a statement piece. He’s never seen without it.” He wrung his hands and tried to control the tremors circulating his body at an almost impossible speed, but nothing could calm him now, not even Victor.

The Russian wrapped his arms tightly around his love as if to shield him, smoothing down his hair and pressing gentle kisses to his temples as he broke down in his arms. “He won’t get you. I promise you that, my sweet Yuri.” He glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall, noting the time and formulating a plan in his mind. “It’s only five o clock. Pack your things and we will leave within the hour.”

 

* * *

 

Yuri fought the trembles for as long as he could, focusing on the task of packing the few possessions he had and making sure that he left no trace of himself behind. He refused to stop, even when his phone buzzed on the bedside table. “Phichit,” he said in a fervent rush, balancing the device between his ear and his shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

_“It depends on what you define as okay.”_

Yuri halted for a fraction of a second, every devastating scenario rushing through his thoughts in the same moment. “What’s going on?”

There was a brief sigh from Phichit, the feather-light sound only just echoing through the speaker. _“Kimoto is going to be in Barcelona tomorrow evening. I think he’s trying to set up the Leroy deal again. I don’t know what’s happened to influence him enough to risk it all a second time, but he’s clearly in a hurry.”_

“He knows I’m still alive,” Yuri mumbled to himself and regaining his composure. “We can’t panic now. Can you send me all of the compiled evidence you’ve got? Absolutely everything.”

_“Of course I can. Why?”_

“Because I’m going to stop this, once and for all. I have to stop running at some point, and I would rather it be on my terms than on that of a well-placed bullet.” He’d never felt this fight before, this surging determination that lit his veins and turned his skin to steel. If he hadn’t have been on the verge of running to his potential death, he’d probably have revelled in it. “I don’t care what I have to do. Kimoto will not set up that deal, and he certainly won’t get away with what he’s put me through. This has to end at some point. I can’t keep hiding away like this.” He could feel tears stinging at the corner of his eyes and breaking loose before he could brush them away, but at that moment in time, tears were the last of the worries. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, Phichit. I… I don’t know how all of this is going to end up, but if I don’t make it, know that you have been the most incredible friend to me, and I wouldn’t be without you for the world.” A soft sob escaped his lips, and any concerned replies from his dearest friend went unheard. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, abruptly ending the call and steadying himself on the desk as he sobbed.  Everything he feared was coming to get him all at once, and he knew that he’d have to be brave to fight it; he couldn’t falter under the intimidating glares of his superiors, he couldn’t curl up and try to protect himself like a wounded animal; he had to face it, arms open wide, whether it spare him a cruel-fated death and allow him to live out the rest of his life in peace or snatch it away from him.

His legs felt unsteady and it wasn’t long before they gave way, his knees hitting the thin, patterned carpet and his head hitting the side of the bed. A cloud of urgency and guilt filtered through his mind, but it all gave way within seconds to a quiet stillness. He accepted it. Whatever fate had in store for him, whatever he had to battle, he would accept it with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Yuri?” Victor peered down at the quivering form curled up by the bedside and pushed away the growing worry as he knelt down and wiped the wet paths from his cheeks. “Are you all right? What is it? What’s happened, my love?”

“We need to go to Barcelona,” Yuri managed to get out, swallowing hard and choking back another wave of sobs before his words became trapped again. In that moment, it all hit him. Everything that had happened over the past few months, the despair, the isolation, the downward spiral that his life had seemingly taken, it all hit him like a brick to the face. _It_ _’s all been leading up to this,_ he thought to himself. _The running, the hiding, the lies. One way or another, it all ends in Barcelona._

“But why are you upset? Surely the prospect of somewhere beautiful like Barcelona is a good thing?”

“Kimoto is trying to set up the deal with the Leroy family again,” Yuri told him, composing himself with a few deep breaths and turning his teary-eyed gaze to Victor. “I’m a diplomat of Japan, it is my duty to stop him, no matter what the cost. We _have_ to go to Barcelona.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, awesome readers,
> 
> I can't thank you all enough for your feedback and your continued support, even when I haven't posted an update for months. It truly means the world to me to know I still have readers out there excited for another chapter.   
> This chapter was only a short update (always was the tiniest chapter of the series), but next Friday (27th July), all going to plan, the final chapter will be out and the series all wrapped up. There may be a short break (knowing my writing schedule it will either be a couple of weeks or a couple of months, there's no in-between with me) until the next new series, but worry not, I have plenty planned. At the moment, I'm planning on writing a Reincarnation AU next. 
> 
> If any of you have Tumblr and want to give me a follow, you can find me at www.yuri-is-on-ice.tumblr.com. 
> 
> Thank you all again for your support. 
> 
> Jess


	10. Chapter 10: Stay by my Side

**Chapter 10: Stay by my Side**

**-**

Kimoto tapped his foot on the sparkling marble floor as he waited, glancing at his watch and heaving an irritated sigh. He was not a man who liked to be left waiting, and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for fools.

The door swept open and a suited man hurried inside, wiping his sweating brow and bowing his head to the Japanese diplomat. “I apologise for being late. The traffic in this part of the city is a nightmare.” He wiped his hand on his jacket and held it out to Kimoto. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Genichi. I’m Hugo Gardet.”

“Don’t give me your excuses, Mr Gardet,” Kimoto said plainly, his eyes the only thing about his expression that showed his true feeling of anger. “I don’t care what your reason is, you’re late. Stop fussing like a fool, I have other matters to attend to today.”

Hugo nodded nervously and flicked through the files and folders in his briefcase, locating the ones he needed and setting them down on the table. “My employers have informed me of the situation with my predecessor, but I assure you I have everything in hand. We have taken extra precautions this time, for both our safety, not just mine and that of the Leroy family.”

Kimoto waved his hand at the man’s words, irked already by his insistence on talking so much. At least the last representative hadn’t been as annoying, even if he had been incompetent. _You can_ _’t have it all,_ he remembered his mother telling him when he was a child. But this was different. This time he would have it all, everything he’d ever wanted. “You’ve checked the documents?”

“Yes, sir, I have.”

“And you’ve had them all verified?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Kimoto sat down with an impatient breath and gestured to the seat opposite him, refusing to let Hugo simply dawdle aimlessly while he checked through each of the contracts and signed them. “What did happen to your predecessor, out of curiosity?” he inquired as his eyes flitted from one document to the next.

“I’m afraid I’m under orders to keep that strictly confidential,” Hugo answered, “but I’m sure that once the contract s have been signed and the deal sorted, Mr Leroy will be more than happy to speak with you about it.”

Kimoto gave an amused grunt, knowing all too well that the Leroy family would sooner throw away their fortune than speak with him in person, but they were about to make him incredibly rich and powerful, so he let the matter go and focused on the task in hand. “I assume Mr Leroy was quite surprised to hear from me again after out last correspondence.”

“He seemed it,” Hugo said, sitting back in his seat. “But from what I’ve heard, he was disappointed about the last contract falling through, so I think it was a good surprise rather than an unexpected one.”

“And the family? How are they?”

“They’re well. Young JJ has recently gotten engaged to Miss Isabella Yang. They seem quite happy together.”

_Another card I shall have to send, pretending to be thrilled,_ Kimoto thought to himself. “Well, I suppose that is something for them to look forward to.”

Hugo nodded and clasped his hands together, laying them down on the table as he waited for Kimoto to finish his scrutinising of the contracts and sign them. He was expected to have them back that evening, and the last thing he wanted to do was anger his boss by being late.

 

* * *

 

Horns blared all around the street, the build-up of traffic growing by the second as large vans and cars joined the accumulation and added their sounds of irritation to the mix. The passers-by didn’t help the matter, only aggravating the drivers even more by yelling and causing a scene, but it was the perfect cover for Victor. The carnage seemed to go on for miles, the pileup spanning as far as they eye could see, and as he got to the tall office complex, he took full advantage of the situation and slipped an ID badge from a distracted security guard’s pocket.

Once inside the pristine tower, he could hear a distinct ringing in his ears as the commotion in the streets outside gave way to a peaceful silence. Despite feeling rather confident about the plan, he still couldn’t help feeling a little nervous, and stepping into the elevator he ran his hand across his forehead to wipe away the droplets of sweat. _Calm down,_ he told himself firmly, pressing the topmost button and breathing out slowly as the doors shut out the peach marble lobby and began to move.

There was so much at stake, it wasn’t just a simple shoot and run like he’d done countless times before; this time he had to rely on more than his aim. Yuri’s future, Japan’s future, rested on his shoulders, and with each floor that passed him by he could feel his heart rate rising.

“Pull yourself together,” he whispered to himself, staring at his reflection in the mirrored walls and fixing his tie. “You can do this. It’s almost over. Just focus.”

 

* * *

 

Hugo heaved a long sigh. He checked his watch, noticing the time and realising he should have left twenty minutes ago. “You read the contracts last time, didn’t you? I’ve been assured it’s all the same.”

Kimoto simply hummed in reply and waved away his comments, scanning the contracts carefully; he didn’t become one of the most accomplished men in the world by taking people at their word. He was meticulous and precise, and he wouldn’t have a boy at least half his age glaring at him as though he was an inconvenience.

“I was told to remind you that my employers will not tolerate any blunders this time,” Hugo said bravely, fearing the wrath of the Leroy family much more than that of the Japanese diplomat. “They have been lenient with you, much more lenient than they should have been, but their patience is wearing thin.”

“Someone’s grown brave,” Kimoto commented, peering over his shoulder as the younger man paced the floor. “I have no time for threats, Mr Gardet. This deal is between myself and the Leroy family, not their lapdog. Do you understand?” He expected some sort of witty response or a barbed reply, but it seemed Hugo took the hint and shut his mouth before it got him into trouble. “Were you given any other instructions from your employers?”

“Only that should I see something I don’t like, I am to… how did Mr Leroy put it?” Hugo tapped his finger against his lips in thought. “He told me that I should get rid of you and the entire deal with you.”

“And would you get rid of me?” Kimoto pushed. “Do you honestly think you’re brave enough to do such a thing?”

Before Hugo could reply, a creaking of the floorboards by the door instantly caught their attention; stood by the only exit was a tall, silver-haired man, his piercing gaze fixated on the pair by the conference table.

“He may not be brave enough, but I am,” Victor said, keeping his aim steady and his focus sharp.

Kimoto pushed against the table to get back onto his feet, glaring at the intruder and scrutinising him; there was something familiar about him, something about the colour of his hair and his clothes. “I know you,” he mused, his recollection pushing the memory of the airport to the surface of his mind and his teeth clenching in a fight to keep his control. “You were with Yuri Katsuki in Beijing, at the airport.”

Victor tensed, recalling the terrified state Yuri had been in after seeing the man and the amount of time it had taken to calm him down. The overwhelming urge to push the trigger and see an end to Kimoto was difficult to resist. For all the pain and suffering he had inflicted on Yuri, in his mind there was nothing sweeter than the thought of watching the bullet fly from the barrel and impact on the corrupt diplomat’s skull. But he couldn’t. He _wouldn_ _’t._ Yuri hadn’t wanted it to end in violence, and no matter how strong the itch to shoot became, he wouldn’t betray Yuri’s trust like that, not unless he absolutely had to. “That doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you are exposed as the liar and the cheat that you are, and that you are put behind bars where you belong.”

Kimoto let out a cruel laugh and shook his head. “You think I don’t know who you are, Victor Nikiforov. You think I haven’t seen your records.” He stepped around the desk and approached Victor, a knowing smirk spreading across his lips. “I know you are the assassin I hired, I know that you didn’t carry out the contract, and I know that you have been keeping Yuri Katsuki in hiding. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No.” Victor took a step towards the diplomat and leaned down to whisper in his ear, the gun pressed against his chest. “I think you’re arrogant.” He drew back and offered him a grin. “And the problem with arrogant people is they use it as a shield and think they’re safe behind it. They cover their malice with their ego and assume everyone else is too stupid to see behind it, but let me tell you something: I see you for what you are, and nothing will keep me from-”

The thundering bangs of flurried footsteps running up the stairs outside cut his words short. For a moment he thought that the plan had fallen through and that his timing had been out, but when Yuri bolted through the door and skidded to a halt, he realised that it was much worse than a timing error.

Within seconds Hugo and Kimoto had drawn their guns, taking advantage of the momentary lapse of Victor’s concentration and wasting no time in firing.

Victor reacted quickly and grabbed hold of Yuri, dragging him towards the far wall and behind cover. “What are you doing here?” he hissed, his heart pounding and any focus he’d had crumbling before his eyes. “You can’t be here, Yuri!”

“And neither can you,” Yuri replied, standing his ground. “It was a bad idea letting you come here alone. I have to fight my own battles.”

“Do you have a gun?”

“What?”

“Do you have a gun on you?”

“No.”

Victor nodded to the corner of the wall, where Kimoto and Hugo were undoubtedly waiting for the perfect moment to shoot again. “They do. What do you think your odds of success are when they’re fully armed and you’re not?”

Yuri pressed his lips into an unimpressed line, breathing out heavily and avoiding Victor’s gaze. He didn’t want to admit that he was right, that he’d come unprepared and naively believing that this was a situation that could be resolved with words, and he began to realise that nobody fought every battle alone. “So, what do we do?”

Victor put his finger to his lips, aiming at a light on the opposite side of the wall and counting the shots that followed it. Hearing the click of weaponry being reloaded, he stepped out from behind the wall and used the brief lull in the shooting to his advantage. But he’d miscalculated, acted too quickly and misjudged the situation. Only one gun had clicked, only one had run completely out of ammunition, and as he emerged from cover, Kimoto let out the final bullet in his gun.

The seconds that followed happened in a blur; one second Yuri was huddled by the window, and the next he was on the floor, leaning over Victor and staring at the blood coating his fingers. The wound in his chest was gushing all over his white shirt, Victor’s life draining away, and there was nothing he could do about it. “V-Victor?” he breathed, taking the man into his arms. “Keep your eyes on me, we’ll get you help.” He felt like his world was fracturing, breaking at the seams too quickly for him to catch any fragments, and it would only get worse. “Please, Victor, don’t leave me.” He could see the wounded man trying to speak, and just as Yuri opened his mouth to hush him, Kimoto and Hugo cornered him, their guns aimed and ready to strike.

“Blossom tree,” Victor croaked.

Before anyone else could so much as move another inch, the windows exploded into millions of tiny shards, multiple dark-clothed assailants entering the conference room and securing the place.

Yurio, who had entered via the window behind Victor and Yuri, swung straight over their heads and kicked Kimoto square in the face, twisting to punch Hugo a second later. “You left it late, Victor,” he commented, landing in front of the pair and detaching the rope clip from his belt. “Did you really want to get shot that badly?”

Victor tried to laugh, but it was painful just breathing, and all that left his lips was a helpless wheeze. “Seems so,” he coughed, grasping onto Yuri’s hand like a lifeline.

“I… I don’t understand,” the shaken diplomat squeaked. “What are you doing here? What’s going on?” He was about to add more questions to the mix when Victor gave a sudden sharp intake of breath, his complexion paling by the second and his body shaking. “Victor. No, please! Victor, don’t leave me!” He didn’t know what to do, how to make it all better again, and as his panic rose, so did the tears, streaming down his cheeks in large droplets. “Say something. Please. Victor?” There was nothing left in Victor’s eyes, no charming sparkle, no glint of mischief, just blankness where there had once been life.

 

* * *

 

The temperature was below freezing, and the bitter chill of the growing wind wasn’t helping matters, but luckily for Yuri he’d taken the necessary precautions and wrapped himself in multiple warm layers before leaving the hotel.

Looking up at the tips of the cathedral gates, he could see that winter had taken its hold and wasn’t going anywhere soon; the black bars were covered in a sheen of ice, and the crust of snow that had collected on the edges of the roof had fallen onto the ground around it, leaving a few puddles in the sheltered courtyard where the warmth of the church had hit it. It fascinated Yuri to see the glittering of the snow on the monuments and statues outside, and the mounds of it piled up where attempts to clear it had been made.

As the icy air began to nip at his bare hands, he stuffed them into his pockets and turned to the architecture around him. He’d spent the past month alone, exploring the little of the city he could and not straying too far from the hotel after he’d been given the all clear, but it hadn’t been the same without Victor. He would see a store that he would love, or a statue he would have spent hours admiring and gushing about, and he was reminded of what happened.

“Yuri!”

At the sound of the dulcet, chirpy tones, Yuri turned to the arches and grinned as Victor approached him. “You arrived,” he chuckled, embracing him carefully. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be early? I’d have met you at the station.”

“I enjoyed the walk,” Victor said. “The doctors said that now I’m mobile again, I need to be getting some fresh air, so where was it you wanted to take me?”

“There’s a few stores I saw, and an incredible fountain… oh, and an art gallery.”

Victor smiled and leaned down to give Yuri a chaste kiss, adoring his enthusiasm and his attention to detail when it came to things that interested him. As he turned to leave, bringing Yuri along with him, he felt a small tug against his arm and turned to see his love still stood by the gates. “What is it, Yuri?”

“Promise me something,” Yuri said, taking the few steps towards the silver-haired man.

“Anything.”

Yuri smiled and placed his hands on the taller man’s cheeks, stroking the rosy skin beneath his fingers. “Stay by my side, Victor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it! The final chapter!  
> All I can say is thank you, thank you, thank you! You have all been so incredibly supportive, and I hope you have enjoyed reading my fic. Seeing all of your positive comments has helped me so much, and kept me writing.  
> I'm working on some more YOI AUs, so if you enjoyed this one, be sure to check them out. 
> 
> Stay awesome,  
> Jess


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